


Shooting Stars

by Seiya234



Series: Transcendence AU [6]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Gen, Transcendence AU, oneshots!
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2018-02-20 08:27:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 283
Words: 175,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2421911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Seiya234/pseuds/Seiya234
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ficlets and other slices of life in the expanded Pines household.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> From this prompt
> 
> The triplets' classmates being creeped out when they openly talk about (or to) Dipper?

Ms. Tamsin applauded.

"Very good Magdalena! Okay, next we have-" she looked at her kindergarten class at her feet-"Acacia Pines!"

A mass of curly red hair who was lost in a oversized knitted space cat sweater raised her hand. “Miss can Hank and Willow be with me cos we all live together so we did it together please?”

Oh yes, these were the triplets.

She smiled indulgently. “Okay, but from here on out you each have to do your own homework, you can’t do it together.”

Hank smiled from under his own mop of curly red hair. “We know, our Daddy told us that.”

"Alright, show the class your picture of what a day at your house is like."

Hank and Acacia looked at Willow who brought out a massive scroll of brown butcher paper. The three of them unrolled it and held it up and oh my god what the fuck was that?

"This is from yesterday," Willow said, hiding under hair longer than her sisters’.

"We had culdists come to our house and try and hurt our Mom so we got our Uncle Dipper from the circle and he took care of them!" Acacia proudly proclaimed.

"We ran out of red crayons but Uncle Dipper found us some more," Hank added.

Willow pointed out a lime green blob. “Then Grunkle Stan took us out for ice cream, but we had to be sneaky because Grunkle Stan forgot his wallet but he made weird fingers when he said forgot.”

They all grinned at Ms. Tamsin. “Uncle Dipper is the best!” Acacia proudly told their teacher.

—-

Henry looked down at the piece of paper Willow had handed him when they got home from school that day.

"Parent-teacher conference?" He hugged Willow and sent her off to play with her siblings, shaking his head. "What on earth could they have possibly done in their first week of kindergarten?"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this question
> 
> What kind of personalities would the triplets end up having? :o?

I see Acacia as being the leader of the three (she’s not only the oldest, she is the Pole Star after all) and the one most like Mabel. I don’t want to say she is more ‘normal’ than her mother, but her flights of fancy are a little more restrained. However, she is the most outdoorsiest of the triplets and often goes on hikes in the forest with her mom (and handy demon uncle when Mabel is busy and she’s still too little to go on her own). She’s very creative, but her talents run more towards painting and drawing (and is good enough at it to make a career out of painting when she is grown). Acacia can also be very headstrong and stubborn, and occasionally her siblings need to talk her out of doing something completely idiotic. (or are talked into joining her. Acacia can be persuasive).

Hank is like both his father Henry, and also his cousin Wendy, in that he is a remarkably relaxed dude. Even as a baby, noises that would wake his sisters he would sleep through, loud explosions that rocked the house he would ignore, vacuum cleaners didn’t frighten him, and so on. Unlike Henry, who gets nervous in large social gatherings, Hank is very gregarious (like Mabel) and has no problem going up to complete strangers and twenty minutes later he knows their life story what? (If you are familiar with Discworld, think Carrot Ironfoundersson levels of knowing people). He is taller than his father at 6’9, and for the love of all that is holy, do not ask him if he plays basketball. He won’t do anything to you, Hank is just really sick of answering that question. He is, however, great with computer programming (Mabel and Henry aren’t sure where that came from but eh, Hank will always be able to fix their computer).

Willow is the quiet one, and takes after Dipper the most. She’s the loner triplet, for lack of a better term. It certainly is not that she is not close to Hank and Acacia because she is, because like Dipper and Mabel there are things only the three of them share, and they always grab on to each other. However, sometimes it feels as if Hank and Acacia are twins and she’s their younger sister. That doesn’t bother her though-she appreciates her time to herself . As a child, Willow had some health issues (that I totally haven’t thought of yet but will so stay tuned) and had to stay at home at times when Hank and Acacia were able to go out and run around, which meant she spent a lot of time bonding with Uncle Dipper. Of the three, Willow is the one that goes into the family business, and of the three, Willow is the one that gets into most trouble because she forgets sometimes that she doesn’t have to do things on her own, she has help.

(Dipper really shouldn’t have favorites, but Willow is a tiny bit his favorite)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this prompt
> 
> one or more of the triplets accidentally witnesses Dipper doing something REALLY SCARY and Henry is the one who can comfort them. (if Stan, Mabel, and Dipper all try but fail that'd be even better!)

-̴͎̝ͧ̌̓̃̎͗̐̉́Ä̡̹͕̙͉̟́̌̇ͨ͞ͅN̰̰̹̜͓̠̞͑ͬͭ̇ͦ͋̕͘͠D̫ͬ̄͛̿ͧ͒̊͞͝ ̡̗̦̮͖͛ͮ́͞N͖͇̱̫̮͉̻̈ͦ͊͛̇ͤ̈́E̮̣̙̺͉̦̒͊͐ͅV̱̫̘̤̰͉̝̅̍ͬ͛̈́̏É̟̞̦̘̘̭̝̝̹ͦ̕Rͮ̿ͩ̐̓͗̑ͨ͏̸̫̰̹̙̩̯ͅ ̧̙̙ͩ͗ͪ̇́͢C̵̱̲͇̪͛͘͠ͅO̶̧̰̜̝̲̭̊͆́̀̐̋ͣ̚M̷̧̯ͧ̾͌ͣ͆ͤ͊E̺̙ͧ͆̆̍͊̓͘ ̪̣̙̲̬̭̠̰́ͦ̅ͦͪͅḄ̲̾̇͆̋̔A͕̪̱͇̔ͤͨ̑̃̆̈́͌C̴̑̄̄̔͋ͯ͋̕҉̳Ḵ̳͍̆̔̃̎͗̓́ͅͅ!ͯͪͫ҉̭̘͙̤̬!͎̰ͥ̌̈͆ͬ̔͋ͤ̀͞ͅ!̤̲̥͎̘͈̠ͬ̄̈͜͜͟"͈͇̩͑͌ͦ̉͜

Dipper maintained the black cast to his skin, the extra eye on his forehead, the claws on his fingers and fire in his hands, and the needle sharp fangs until he was sure that the cultist was out of sight.

He let himself fade back into his human appearance, and shut the door with a snap of his fingers. Sweet Moses cultists were worse than door to door salesmen.

(Grunkle Stan, the former door to door salesman, readily agreed with Dipper on this).

He turned around to see that Hank had already wandered off, unimpressed, Willow was looking at him oddly intent (if she were older, he would call the look on her face “fey”) and Acacia was….where was she?

 

Dipper knelt down to be level with his niece.

“Little Fighter, where is Pole Star?” Dipper asked, using the nicknames only he and the kids knew about.

The five year old started to fish in her overalls pocket for something. “She’s under the couch-can you show me how to do that?”

Dipper sighed. Great, he terrified his niece. A-plus babysitting. He tostled Willow’s hair. “No, but later I can teach you how to juggle fireballs.”

Willow pulled out a kazoo and nodded. Dipper’s eyes alit at the kazoo and the chaotic potential contained within it. “Why don’t you go give Grunkle Stan a kazoo concert?”

Willow smiled and went off to find Stan, leaving Dipper alone in the living room, except for Acacia hiding under the couch.

He sat down on the floor next to the couch. Dipper could feel her fear, hot and tight like a knot under his heart.

“Acacia you can come out now. It’s okay, I look like me again.”

She didn’t say anything but under his heart the knot grew tighter and he felt waves of color like a bruise coming from under the couch.

“Pole Star, sweetie, there’s nothing to be scared of now. Don’t you want to come out and learn how to play with fire with Willow?”

Finally, a voice from out under the couch, muffled from being inside a sweater. “no”

Well. He was officially the worse.

A particularly strong kazoo solo from upstairs broke his concentration, and Dipper sighed and got up. Maybe Grunkle Stan would have some advice.

—-

He came in on Stan with Willow on his lap, tucking the kazoo back in her overalls pocket.

“And you see Will, that is why your dad loves the kazoo. Especially when you use it to help him wake up.”

Willow looked at Stan in awe. “Really?”

“Of course kid! So think of something good to play for him tomorrow morning.”

Willow leaned in and gave a kiss to Stan’s cheek. “Thanks Grunkle Stan,” she chirped, and then got off his lap.

She looked at Dipper as she passed. “You still promised Uncle Dipper,” Willow told him solemnly.

“I did kiddo and we will. Just not now.”

She nodded. “K,” and she left.

Dipper dropped down onto the physical plane, and plopped in the chair next to Stan. He took his hat off and ran his hand through his hair.

“Grunkle Stan, I think I fucked up.”

“What’d you do?” his grand-uncle asked, settling back into his recliner.

“We got another cultist at the door, and I put the fear of, um….me in him and it scared Acacia and now she won’t come from under the couch.”

“She still there?”

Dipper closed his eyes. Hank was in the triplet’s bedroom, playing with some Lincoln Logs. Willow was sitting on her bed in the room with him, looking very intently at the kazoo in her hands, though she jumped all the sudden and looked around her (he hadn’t told Mabel and Henry about that yet). And Acacia…

Dipper sighed and opened his eyes. “Still under the couch.”

“Well that’s easy!” From the pocket in the back of his recliner, Stan pulled out a clown mask. “We just need to scare her out from under the couch!”

Dipper just looked at Stan.

“That….that is an awful idea Grunkle Stan.”

“What? It makes sense!”

The sound of a truck from outside interrupted them. Henry and Mabel were back from the grocery store.

“I think they’ll have better luck than we would,” Dipper said

—-

Henry was lifting a bag of groceries out of the bed of the truck when Mabel next to him went “What’s wrong Dipper?”

A pause, Mabel looking intently at where Henry guessed Dipper was.

She frowned and folded her arms. “I don’t care if eating souls is ‘a bigger deal than you make it sound Mabel’, you should have done it.”

Sometimes it occurred to Henry that his wife was more bloodthirsty than her brother, the literal demon.

She sighed. “Okay, I suppose going into graphic detail about how he’s going to die is just as good for keeping him away from here but-“

Here Mabel was interrupted by Willow and Hank running outside and clamoring around her, like she had been away for weeks rather than 45 minutes.

“Um Dipper,” Henry asked the spot where he was sure Dipper stood. “Mind coming in and telling me what happened?”

With his invitation Henry felt all the hairs on the back of his neck stand up and the world around him fade to grey as Dipper appeared before him.

"Spill Dipper."

Dipper put a hand behind his head. “Um, don’t kill me but I forgot the triplets were in the room when we had a cultist come to the door and they saw me scaring him off and now Acacia won’t come out from under the couch.”

Dipper looked so much like Hank and Acacia after that time they broke the truck window playing ball that Henry couldn’t help but laugh.

He clapped Dipper on the shoulder, and then brought him in for a hug.

"Dipper, how can I be mad at you? You were protecting the kids. Just maybe check next time."

He released his brother-in-law. “Now let me out please, and I’ll see if I can’t get Acacia out from under the couch.”

Dipper smiled and the world came back into focus and color. Henry looked at Mabel. “Can you take care of the groceries?”

—-

Henry couldn’t fit all of him under the couch, but he was able to stick his head and shoulders under there.

There was Acacia, who still looked terrified, but also like a five year old who had been under a couch for thirty minutes and was weighing terror against boredom.

"How’s this couch treating you kiddo?" Henry asked, and Acacia beamed.

"DADDY!" she cried and began wiggling her way over to him.

"Hey Acacia. What are you doing under here?" Henry asked his daughter, as if he didn’t know.

Her face dampened. “Um….nuffin.”

"It must be something, you didn’t come out and help us."

She looked around for a second, and then looked at her hands. “Uncle Dipper scared me.”

Henry clucked her under the chin. “Honey, you know Uncle Dipper would never hurt you. He loves you.”

"But he got all scary when he was angry and what if I make him angry like that one day?"

Oh. Oh. That’s what this was about.

He couldn’t really hug her or put her on his lap because they were under the couch but he laid the hand from the one arm he got under here on hers.

"Acacia Ruth, I can promise you, even when you upset Uncle Dipper a bit, he would never, ever hurt you. He would never get mad at you like that. I promise."

She sniffed, then looked at him.

"Really?"

"Really really. And I bet if you tell Uncle Dipper why you were upset, he’d say the same thing too."

She thought about it for a minute. “He won’t be mad at me now?”

"No. In fact, I bet he would like nothing more than to give you a big hug."

Acacia smiled. “Okay,” she said, and came out from under the couch.

Five minutes later, and with some help from Mabel, Henry came out from under the couch as well to see Acacia hanging in mid-air, safely held in Dipper’s grip while she whispered to him.

Mabel leaned up to give him a kiss on the cheek. “You did good Henry.”

Henry smiled.

(Two hours later, when he saw his daughters juggling fireballs, he tried to remember this good mood he was feeling)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some quick thoughts and notes about the triplets and Grunkle Stan in this au.

1\. Grunkle Stan and the Mystery Shack

Or “omg how is Grunkle Stan still around if he’s 80 in the show?”

My personal hc for both this au and the actual show is that Stan is about 50-60 when the kids come to visit him from the summer. I’m basing this off my own Grunkles, all but one of whom were under 40 when I was born (and I’m 25 now!)

So yeah, let’s say Grunkle Stan is about 67 when the triplets are born and he passes soon after they graduate high school, having stayed around long enough to be able to see that his grandkids are set and on to do big and great things. Dipper may or may not have had a hand in this.

(Because early on Stan realizes that….yeah, the triplets are pretty much his grandkids, especially since he sees them far more than either set of their ‘actual’ grandparents.

He never thought he would have this in his life, he thought one day, sitting on the porch and rocking his great-grand nieces in his arms. He was far luckier than he deserved.)

As for the Mystery Shack, soon after that event-that-none-of-have-written-about-yet, it kind of limps along for a year or two after that, but by the time Mabel and Dipper move in its clear to Stan that he needs to change his business model-who needs to go to a Mystery Shack now that the strange and wonderful and terrible is all around in everyday life?

Then Mabel points out the large amount of books on the supernatural Stan has accrued over the year (and Dipper still cannot get over the fact that when he was human there was a treasure trove of information literally under his nose and ugggggh). People no longer need a sham, but information.

And thus the Stanley Pines Memorial Library of the Supernatural is born. (Because Stan hasn’t forgot, will never forget) Wendy, who’s now at college, helps hook them up with people in academia who are besides themselves with some of the sources Stan has acquired over the years and before they know it they’re making a tidy profit in copying and licensing fees; certainly enough to support himself and Mabel.

Mabel, when she is older, makes her money through a combination of working in the Library, and making and selling sweaters, cozies, and swimsuits.

By the time Henry has married Mabel and the triplets are born, the gift shop and museum are now the Library, the attic is the triplet’s room, and Henry and Mabel’s bedroom is an addition onto the first floor.

2\. Willow

Willow suffers from chronic bronchitis and asthma as she grows up (and thank you to my two anons who suggested that!), and sometimes she’s stuck at home or in the hospital sick or has to stay inside while Hank and Acacia go out and play.

So of the three, she is the one who spends the most one on one time with Dipper, and while they all learn how to summon demons (thanks to the aid of some sparkly picture books their mom made them), how to defend themselves (boxing and otherwise), and the basic principles of magic and the supernatural, Dipper goes deeper and teaches stuff that Stan’s library doesn’t even begin to touch.

Things only demons know.

(Dipper had had a feeling that Willow would be a little different starting when she was a baby and he would check in on them from the dreamscape and she would perk up while Hank and Acacia were unaware of his gaze on them).

Mabel and Henry don’t mind, but insist that Dipper have something special he does with Hank and Acacia as well. So he teaches Hank to play the violin, and Acacia cryptology. (You know, little uncle things).

It was surprising to absolutely no one that of the three, Willow was the one to follow in the Mystery Twins’ footsteps and become a paranormal investigator and troubleshooter.

(For who was Antares but the heart of the scorpion, the equal of Ares?)

3\. Hank

It always irked Hank that strangers would look at him as opposed to his sisters and parents and immediately peg him as “the normal one” in the Pines family.

First of all because ‘normal’ was such a relative concept and he hated that deviation from that was an excuse to heap scorn and derision on his sisters and mother. So he was in track, so he worked with computers, so what? He may not have be as…as effervescent as Acacia or as obviously involved with the world of magic and shadows as Willow was, but that didn’t make him better than them. Hank just didn’t understand why people couldn’t get that.

His mom and sisters never seemed to mind though-and that was one of he things he admired, he loved about all of them.

So he tried to remind himself that it rolled off of them like water off stone. But just in case, since he had all this social capital available to him at school, he made sure in his own Hank way to be clear that No One Messed With The Pines Girls. Mainly with aggressive kindness and weapon used obliviousness bit occasionally with a well placed hex.

(Uncle Dipper approved. Bright lights could reveal and shine….and also blind.)

4\. Acacia

As the oldest, and by nature, Acacia is the leader.

(The Pole Star, the guide in the night…)

So about 85% of the trouble the kids get into is her idea usually.

Climbing on to the roof at age six? Acacia.

Filling the town pond with newts and harpies at age ten? Acacia.

Telling all their teachers on the first day of middle school that she was Willow and Willow was Acacia? That was all Acacia.

Sometimes Dipper looks at his oldest niece and is reminded so much of Mabel at her age. The main difference being Acacia was…a little more tricksy, more mischievous,more appreciative of causing some chaos in the world around her.

As a responsible adult he felt like he should nip that in the bud but hell, he was an uncle. It was kind of his job to encourage Acacia’s shenanigans.

And with that he went with his niece to make crop circles in the near by corn field.


	5. Chapter 5

And….done!

Mabel held up the sweater, which had the big dipper on it. The stars were little glow in the dark beads and the yarn was glow in the dark as well-she had gotten it on sale, natch.

She looked out the living room window and into the yard, where the triplets were currently pelting their uncle with snowballs.

Well, attempting to anyway. He kept using magic to zip them away from his suit. Not that that didn’t mean Hank and Willow and Acacia didn’t stop trying.

Mabel grinned wickedly. She had an idea.

-

Hank was going to get Uncle Dipper for real this time. He’d never expect an assault from the rear. The eight year old began to carefully position himself out of the eyesight of his uncle when all the sudden he heard a sharp whistle pierce the air.

"TRIPLETS ASSEMBLE" his mom yelled from the porch and he and his sisters ran to see what she wanted.

From Dipper’s point of view, his nieces and nephew were in a huddle with Mabel for a minute and then they turned around and Hank and Willow held a sweater in their hand.

"UNCLE DIPPER MOM SAID TO GIVE THIS TO YOU," Acacia yelled from the porch and the three of them began to tromp back out through the snow to him.

Dipper held out his hands for the sweater but to his surprise Acacia tackled him to the ground to get him on their level, while Hank and Willow pulled his arms up over his head and began to try and put the sweater on him.

In the distance he could hear Mabel laughing hard enough to cry, and the sound of Grunkle Stan coming out to see what the commotion was. Meanwhile the triplets had managed to get the sweater on him…ish, but couldn’t pull it over his head.

They pulled back a second, to talk strategy, and Dipper seized his opportunity.

He rose from the snow and let yellow flame stream from his eyes.

"I͟ ͔̼̩̦̪A̧̗͈̰̤̹M͍̯̜ ̠̫T̯͍̬̞̜HE̮͞ ͍͠ͅG̟̝̳̳̳̀RE͖̯̖̙̩̺A̝̫̜͉͘T̀ ̪A҉͎̻̠N͓͉͜D̨͕ T̗̘͚̫̻́E͏̰̪̳͚̹̼ͅR̯͖R̻͡I̷̬̹̺͈B̴͇͓̻̗̝͇̻Ḷ̞͖̟̫̮E̛̝̬̞̠̦ ͔̯̠̬S̟̖W̶̯E̤̜͎̯̗͙̞A̦̦̳̳̬T̨̯E͙͎̭̗R̛̲̥ͅ ̧̩͓̹̮̩͔Ḿ̬̻̰͇͕O̡̜N̳͢S̹̬̥̟͚͈ͅT͚E̠̺͇͔̮͇R̙͖̲̰ͅ ҉̭̠̠͕̬ͅF̥͔̖̯Ẹ̮̤A̝̙͚͖͙̥R͓̞̼̥̘̮ ̨̘M̡͙E̢͕̹͈̬̪̰"

Dipper yelled, and began to swing his arms around and chase the triplets around in the snow.

Mabel smiled.

This was a good afternoon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off of this post
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/99413527643/i-had-this-adorable-thought-go-through-my-head-earlier


	6. Chapter 6

They were in the car and on their way to a case when Dipper suddenly sneezed.

"tew!"

Mabel giggled and poked Dipper in the shoulder. “Kitten sneeze!”

Dipper looked at her askance from the passenger seat, where he was floating.

"Mabel, can you quit it with the-"

Dipper sneezed again and it sounded somehow even more like a tiny adorable kitten than usual.

Mabel slapped the wheel as they stopped at a light. “I’m sorry Dip but you sound like a wee, tiny kitty cat.”

Dipper glared.

"A baby, wee, tiny kitty cat."

"Mabel, we’re about to go check out a house that is supposed to be infested with demons, can you please be-"

A succession of sneezes, each one more twee and precious than the last.

Mabel reached over and began patting Dipper on the shoulder.

"Can I call you Dippy-cat?"

"NO."

"Too late Dippy-cat."

They pulled up in front of the house and Dipper looked at Mabel.

"Mabel, so help me, do not call me Dippy-cat in the haunted house or I’ll-“

"Hiss at me?"

"Yes-wait, NO MABEL."

(as it turned out, not only did she call him Dippy-cat in the haunted house, she did it in front of the demons who were bound there and oh god he was never going to live this down)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off of this post
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/99203883558/i-love-the-transcendence-au-every-time-something-new#notes


	7. Chapter 7

"I’m going to kill him."

"Henry, you don’t mean that," Mabel replied, but with less certainty than usual.

"No next time he comes on our plane, I am going to throttle your brother."

Mabel sighed a bit but thinking about the last three hours, she really couldn’t blame her husband.

Her darling brother, for the triplets’ tenth birthday, had somehow found an old stash of Smile Dip and given it to the kids.

——

"Whoooooaaa," all three of them said in chorus, when Dipper brought out the bucket of Smile Dip.

"I heard having Smile Dip is a crime in fifteen states," Hank said, almost reverently.

"I heard when you eat it you see new colors," Acacia added, her fingers moving towards the Crayola watercolor set that was on her nightstand.

Willow looked at Dipper solemnly. “Can I have this and be fine?” It broke Dipper’s heart a bit to hear his niece have to think about such things, but he tostled her hair and said, “Of course Little Fighter!” He got a little serious for a second-“I would never give you three anything that could hurt you.”

Dipper felt a tug. “Got a summons kids, but have fun and happy birthd-“

Dipper didn’t get to finish before he was dogpiled by three excited redheads giving him hugs and kisses.

When he got out from under them and left, they were already digging in.

——

The last three hours had seen Mabel and Henry chasing their children all over the house and yard, especially as they had eaten two jumbo bags of Smile Dip each.

Acacia had climbed up the totem pole outside, made it onto the roof three times, and was currently spinning on the floor going “COLORS!” She had been doing that, at the top of her lungs, for thirty minutes now.

Hank had at first joined Acacia in climbing all the things but then at one moment froze up, looked into the distance, and cried out “Come Aoshima! The kingdom needs us!” He was currently running up and down the stairs and occasionally saying things like “At dawn we attack the Sugar Sunshine Kingdom. We must strategize.”

Willow had been lying out on the grass in the front yard, just staring at the clouds and occasionally at her hands. When Mabel checked on her, Willow looked at her, pupils completely blown, and said slowly “we are all made of stars and stars are made of us.” Then she went back to contemplating her hands.

Mabel looked out to where Henry was getting the ladder out to fish Acacia off the roof again and Hank making swimming motions in the dirt.

The next time she saw her beloved twin, she was going to hang him up by his toes.

(Hundreds of miles away, Dipper felt the waves of chaos he had left behind him and smiled. All in a day’s work.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this HC!
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/99537696693/we-need-more-happy-headcanons-that-dont-make-us-cry


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From multiple sources!
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/99540349798/what-if-dipper-takes-the-triplets-to-go-trick-or  
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/99552936993/omg-the-image-of-the-triplets-in-halloween-costume-as  
> http://hiridraws.tumblr.com/post/99599406763/based-off-this-ask-the-most-unfairly-adorable#notes

Though as the kids got older Dipper was able to manifest more often and for longer periods of time, it was still best to formally summon him if you wanted him for a set amount of time and physicality.

Like Sunday dinner.

Mabel pricked her thumb and wiped it against her Summoning Apron and hollered, “Dipperrrr!”

He phased through the floorboards from the attic where he had been going through basic musical notation with Hank, eyes alighting when he saw the table groaning under the weight of all the food assembled on it.

"Dinner?" Mabel asked.

"Deal," Dipper agreed, coming from the Dreamscape into this plane. "Are those mashed potatoes?" he asked and started to reach two fingers towards the bowl only to get his hand smacked with a wooden spoon.

"Grunkle Stan!" Dipper shook his fingers and his uncle looked at him.

"Hey, if I can’t sample, you can’t either."

"KIDS. HENRY. FOOD!" Mabel yelled, practically in Dipper’s ear.

"Jeez Mabel, I think I’m deaf now," Dipper griped, but halfheartedly. He took his spot between Mabel and Willow at the table as everyone came to the kitchen to eat (they probably didn’t need to space the kids between each of them now they were six but old habits died hard).

The first five minutes of dinner was usually silent as everyone was generally focused on shoving food in their mouths, but Henry eventually broke the nomming by looking at the triplets and asking “Have you three thought about what you want to be for Summerween?” (Henry wasn’t quite used to two Halloweens in one year, but in the other hand, it did mean there were lots of mini Snickers in the house for a month after so…)

Hank and Willow looked at Acacia, who beamed at her dad with a big, gap toothed smile. “Something scary!” she said.

"Scary like Grunkle Stan in the morning?" Mabel asked and everyone laughed.

"Har har har you want scary, I could show you scary," Grunkle Stan grumped.

"No," Hank cried. "Scary like Uncle Dipper!"

Willow tugged on Dipper’s sleeve. “Can we dress up and be scary like you?” she asked.

Dipper grinned. “Of course! I’ll even teach you how to scary laugh.” He then began to cackle wildly and the entire table lit up with blue fire.

Henry, cutting up a piece of chicken for Hank, didn’t even look up as he said “Dipper, no eldritch fire at the dinner table please.”

Dipper stuck his tongue out at Henry, which made the triplets giggle, but he stopped. He happened to catch Mabel’s eye and-

"Mabes? Are you okay?"

Her eyes were large and her mouth hung open a bit. “Little suits…” she said reverently. “It’s my greatest challenge yet.”

After dinner, the kids and Mabel went into a brainstorming session.

"I want mine to be square-y, like Dad’s clothes," Hank said, and Mabel added some plaid crosshatching onto to the doodle for Hank’s suit.

Acacia had just brought down her bucket of beads and bells and sparkly things she found, so Mabel made a note to make her eldest’s suit as sparkly and dayglo as possible, with room to clip on dangly bits.

Willow gave her a piece of paper, covered in signs Mabel recognized from the portal in the basement. “Can you put these on mine?” she asked and Mabel nodded, mentally adding on a lining with the constellations of the night sky for Willow’s.

The four of them looked at what Mabel had sketched out. This was going to be the best Summerween yet.

—-

The past month had been a bit unbearable for Dipper because Mabel wouldn’t let him see what she was doing and warded her workroom to keep him out (he could have broken through it but it really wasn’t worth it. Also it still frightened him that he had power enough to break most protective wards) and the kids were surprisingly mum about the details of their costumes. Not even tickles and promises of making sure they only got good candy could worm it out of them.

"Can I open my eyes yet?" Dipper asked, sitting between Henry and Stan on the couch in the living room. He was corporeal for the evening as he was taking the kids out trick or treating. Mabel and Henry were going to have a nice evening in and Stan was ready to have a wonderful night of scaring the shit out of small children.

"Almost!" Dipper heard Mabel cry from in the attic." He felt Henry nudge him.

"You know she’s going to want to take a million pictures before you go out, right?" Henry asked, said camera in hand and ready to go. (Because it was always nice to get pictures of Dipper and the kids that people other than Mabel and the triplets could see.)

Dipper snorted. “Of course-she’s Mabel, it’s kind of her thing.”

He felt a rush of excitement from upstairs and then the sound of three overexcited children and an equally overexcited Mabel, running down the stairs at breakneck speed, like a pack of puppies.

"Open your eyes!" Mabel cried. Dipper uncovered them and three little versions of him stood in front of Dipper.

He was going to borrow a page from Mabel and say this was perhaps the cutest thing Dipper had ever seen. It easily beat out their “three peas in a pod costume” Mabel had made for them when they were two.

Mabel and Wendy had gone out and bought a mass amount of flannel when Mabel was pregnant, and she used some of that to make Hank’s entirely plaid outfit-he looked like the most dapper lumberjack ever. Acacia’s suit reminded him of that one company Mabel loved when they were little…oh, yeah, Lisa Frank. Her little suit itself was made out of bright sparkly pink and purple fabric, but all over Mabel had sewn in beads and bits and dangles that Acacia naturally seemed to accumulate in her everyday life. Also, it looked like every barrette and bow from the hair tie box upstairs had been clipped on to her suit as well. Willow’s was black like his, but, Mabel had embroidered all over it the symbols of the Behenian Stars that he had shown Willow a month or two ago.

"You know what the only thing you niblings are missing?" Dipper asked. Before they had a chance to respond he snapped and three little top hats popped on to their heads.

Acacia looked like she was about to pass out from pure joy, as was Mabel, who had unceremoniously snatched the camera away from a disgruntled Henry and was currently snapping pictures like her life depended on it.

——

Hank looked into his fourth pillowcase of the night. This was quite possibly the best trick or treating they had ever gone on.

Willow rode on Uncle Dipper’s shoulders most of the night, so she wouldn’t get tired and have hurty breathing like she did sometimes. Acacia kept finding all the houses that gave out whole candy bars, not just the little ones. As for Uncle Dipper, occasionally he would say something like “oof, Uncle Dipper is getting tired, I may need a sacrifice” and one of them would have to give him a piece of good candy to make sure he stayed so everyone could see him but that wasn’t a big deal.

Also, for two or three more pieces of candy, Uncle Dipper flashed them from one neighborhood to the next so they were going way farther then they had ever been before.

Yes, Hank thought, it was a great night but then Acacia froze next to him and he could see out of the corner of his eye Willow upset as well.

Hank looked where they were looking and oh.

—-

Trick or treating was fun, Dipper thought. And not just because every other time he told the kids he needed a sacrifice he really didn’t and was thus getting all the Skittles before Mabel got a hold of them.

(well, every third time. He was getting kind of tired-he hadn’t stayed this corporeal for this long in quite a while and besides, he could never truly take advantage of his beloved nieces and nephew).

They were on their last neighborhood (because it was getting late and Mabel told him to have them home by 8) when under his hands and on his shoulders the triplets seized up and through the bonds he had with them he could feel bruise colors all blue and purple-green and distraught memories.

He shifted Willow from his shoulders to his arms,and then knelt down to be on eye level with Hank and Acacia.

"What’s wrong niblets?" he asked them quietly.

Acacia pointed at a house three doors down.

"I saw the man there and he’s the principal at our school."

"He doesn’t like Mommy," Hank said solemnly.

Willow nodded. “He has bad thoughts when she comes around.” (and at that little tidbit, Dipper realized he really needed to sit down and have a good look at Willow soon and figure out what the fuck he was going to tell Mabel and Henry).

"Is that so?" Dipper asked, thinking hard.

The triplets looked at each other for a second, and it was so like how he and Mabel were at that age that his heart ached for a second.

"Can we scare him?" Acacia asked.

Dipper grinned. It wasn’t a nice grin, especially as it showed his fangs.

"I never thought you would ask kids."

——

The doorbell rang, and Derek Southwest (no relation) got up. If he had his druthers, he wouldn’t even have his light on at all on this stupid, so-called ‘holiday’ but as the principal of Gravity Falls Elementary, he did have appearances to keep up with and one of them was actually giving a shit about 90% of the kids he was supervising.

He opened the door.

"And what are you oh my god HOLY CHRIST WHA-"

On his doorstep a young brunette man dressed in formal wear was stretched out within a circle. On top of him was a vaguely familiar redheaded little girl with a knife in her hands, while at the brunette’s head and feet two other redheaded children were kneeling and chanting.

"DIE" the little girl with a knife said, and plunged it down into his stomach, before starting to slowly drag it downwards.

Viscera, organs never meant to feel the fresh air, spilled out of the man’s stomach as blood shot up in the air and spread all across the porch.

There was probably more but Principal Southwest didn’t see it as he promptly passed out.

It was good timing, as the blood and viscera disappeared, and three small redheaded children in suits immediately dogpiled on their uncle and began laughing hysterically.

——

Mabel looked at the clock. It was eight and no sooner had she looked at the clock did she feel along her bond with Dipper a feeling of ‘incoming!” and Dipper popping into the living room with three asleep children, ten pillowcases of candy and-

"Dip, is that blood?"

"….no?"

(they found out the next morning when they read in the paper that the principal of the local elementary school was going on leave for a semester. Dipper and the kids tried not to look suspicious and failed miserably.)


	9. Chapter 9

Mabel felt a tug on her sweater, and looked down from tiling the backsplash in the kitchen.

(They had gotten a rather nice tax return this year so they were doing some much needed work on the Shack and holy Moses since when did she start thinking like an adult?)

Hank was there, along with his sisters.

"Mommy, can we go to the store?" he asked. Acacia chimed in. "We wanna get some cookies for after dinner tonight." Willow didn’t say anything, but she shook the piggy bank that the triplet’s shared meaningfully.

Mabel thought. Grunkle Stan was upstairs wrestling with the plumbing, Henry wouldn’t be home for another hour or two, and she was in the middle of this tiling project (she had painted a bunch of tiles so that when they were all together it would make up a rainbow colored unicorn running on a path of stars). The store wasn’t far but seven was still a little too young for them to walk the half mile to the store on their own and-

Mabel’s eyes drifted over to the chair that she had tethered her sleeping brother to with a scarf. (Dipper had complained that this was completely undignified, but he had a tendency to pop briefly onto the physical plane after waking up and after phasing into reality half in a wall one too many times, he didn’t complain much about it any more.)

——

The last thing Dipper remembered was laying his head down on the table for five minutes. He had simultaneously been helping Mabel and testing his limits for staying corporeal without getting a summons or sacrifice. His current best was two hours but it was unimaginably tiring so he decided to take a little break, maybe phase back into the Dreamscape….

However, now he found himself surrounded by pine trees and floating along. Someone had put him in a sweater (which read “BEST DEMON UNCLE”), the collar all wet from where he was chewing it in his sleep.

The scarf that Mabel liked to use to tie him down to things (like he was a freaking balloon) was at one end attached to his ankle and the other end was in Willow’s hand, as she merrily towed him along. She was walking hand in hand with Hank, who had a bag from the convenience store near the house.

Acacia was not on the ground with them but five feet in the air with Dipper.

He looked at her. “Pole Star?”

Acacia grinned. “I wanted a ride. It’s Hank’s turn next.”

Willow turned back to look at her uncle. “Mom said we could go to the store but we had to take you with us.”

He drifted down to Hank and Willow, Acacia astride his shoulders.

"Why didn’t you wake me up? I could have had us there and back in a minute."

Hank and Willow looked at each other for a second.

"Um….because we all wanted a turn riding on you?" Hank said.

Dipper looked blankly at the three of them for a second before bursting out laughing.

He swept the triplets up in his arms and drifted back up to five or six feet off the ground. “Well, now I can give all of you a ride,” he said, and zoomed towards the Shack, the happy cries of his nieces and nephew in his ears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based off of these wonderful links
> 
> http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/99779968468/dipper-still-likes-to-sleep-even-though-he-doesnt-need#notes  
> http://mybelovedtwinflower.tumblr.com/post/99788405875/1-uncle-sleeping-on-the-job


	10. Chapter 10

"Mr. Pines?"

Stan looked up from the same magazine he had been failing to read for the last two hours.

The nurse smiled. “You can go up and see them now.”

He followed the young man down halls bright and sterile and odd smelling, until they were in the maternity ward and he showed Stan into Mabel’s room.

Before Stan went in the nurse warned him, “Mrs. Pines is still recovering and is on a lot of painkillers so she may be a bit….odd for a bit.”

Stan barked out a laugh. “That’s every day with Mabel,” he said and went in.

There was another nurse fussing over Mabel.

There was Mabel, who was insisting that “the sandwirms are crawling on the floor, please squish them so they don’t eat my babies.”

There was Henry, who looked both happy and like he had been hit by a truck.

There was Dipper, who had that same look but more possessive (His, Dipper thought, they were his and they were finally here.)

And in Henry and Dipper’s arms there were three small bundles: red, wrinky, and disgruntled looking.

Stan sat heavily down in the free chair in the room and everyone finally noticed him.

Mabel blearily looked at Stan and smiled. “Dip! Henry! Let the new grandpa hold the babies!” she trilled, and then continued lecturing the nurse attending her about sandwirm biology.

(Between this and the actual fucking demon in the room who she had to restrain herself from snatching the babies from, Nurse Beverly was regretting that transfer to Gravity Falls General).

Stan opened his mouth. “Mabel sweetie I’m not their-” but then Dipper was laying two little girls and Henry a boy in his arms.

Stan looked down at the triplets. They were a blend of Henry and Mabel’s features of course, but one girl, bless her, had what looked like his nose.

It had been Stanley’s nose too.

Stanley should be the one in this room, holding his great-grandchildren, instead of Stanford.

Stan looked up and around, at Mabel settling in for some sleep, at Dipper and Henry deep in discussion.

Not present were Henry’s parents (when Henry told them Mabel was pregnant, his father said “I didn’t think you had it in you.” Unfortunately he was loud enough that Mabel next to Henry could hear that and Dipper had to restrain Mabel from ripping the phone out of Henry’s hands and tearing Arnold Corduroy a new one).

The twin’s parents, Anna and his nephew Mark, were not here either. (Anna was going to be originally, but one day Mabel had mentioned that Dipper would be in the hospital as well and around after the birth and two weeks later, Mark had a tech conference that it was absolutely imperative for him to attend and Anna needed to go too for, um, reasons, and I’m so sorry Mabel, we’ll come up in a few months okay?)

Arnold wasn’t here. Mark wasn’t here. His twin wasn’t here.

The little boy sneezed like a kitten and one of the girls made a “meep” sound and Stan’s heart flip-flopped.

So he wasn’t actually their grandfather. So what? Stan swore then and there they would never feel the lack of that in their lives. If they couldn’t have their actual grandfathers, Stan would more than gladly step in.

Starting now because oh god all three of them were crying help.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this ask on tumblr!  
> hello, i love your ocs in the transcendence au! and have a question; does dipper's possessiveness of the triplets ever get in the way of, say, mabel and henry/their parenting? maybe if the kids are in danger or something??

For the most part no, though occasionally Dipper does let out a “my kids” and Mabel gives him the stink eye.

No, Dipper for the most part respects that Mabel and Henry know what the hell they’re doing way better than him when it comes to this whole ‘parent’ thing. So Dipper watches the kids, and can make them dinner, put them to bed, get them in the shower or bath, and generally act like a responsible adult. But he’s an uncle so that means he also gets to act their age-literally-and encourage mass chaos and shenanigans, and give them crazy amounts of sugar and show them how to get on the roof.

Or another way to put it is that most of the time, Dipper is able to keep that possessiveness in check.

However, when the kids are in danger though (and it happens, not only because of who Dipper is, but also because Mabel is a well known demon hunter and supernatural expert, and Stan has some of his own skeletons in a closet), well.

That’s when shit gets real.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this ask on tumblr
> 
> now im thinking of somebody new to gravity falls looking at one of the pines kids and going 'wow what a cute' and mention this to a longtime resident and the other person's just like. you do know that family hangs around with actual demons right. like literally their uncle is a fucking demon. i saw them summoning him and making a deal for a ride home in exchange for three oreos there was fire and everything. like the pines kids are nice but they're FUCKING TERRIFYING

I mean, not only do they hang around a fucking demon, but dude, seriously, don’t make the oldest one mad because she has a pair of brass knuckles-no, I’m not shitting you, Acacia seriously has a pair of brass knuckles she says she got from her Grunkle-you know, that Stan Pines who runs the weird library on the edge of town? But yeah, no matter how many times they get confiscated she always gets her hands back on them, and last year she broke the nose of the team quarterback because he pinched her butt. Also she’s kind of crazy. Like, fun crazy! But I mean, last week she climbed on the roof of the cafeteria to chase after a squirrel.

And Hank is nice, don’t get me wrong, I mean everyone loves Hank. Like, everyone. And they tell him everything-he’s just got that kind of face yanno? And he always makes sure to break the internet firewall in the computer lab for everyone, and he sometimes brings cookies in because “it’s a cookie kind of day.” Yes, really. Yes, he’s single for now. But no, look, we all like Hank and Hank likes all of us but he still kind of creeps me out because if you say anything about his sisters he gets really scary…but not? I can’t explain it-the best way to put it is…aggressive kindness? I don’t know, I just know he will make you repeat yourself and before you know it you feel like dirt and he has this look on his face like a teacher, like you’ve disappointed him and ugh. Hank.

Willow….is quiet. Not like bad quiet. Just….quiet. Like she has way more bigger and important things to think about than if someone calls her names occasionally. But when she does notice things around her, notices you, she’ll look at you, really look at you, and….and it feels like she knows every single fucking thing about you. And then she looks away.

So yeah, go ahead with the Pines Triplets. Acacia isn’t single-she’s going out with Reina Castañeda, but Hank and Willow are.

Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr ask
> 
> "the sock opera comes up. Henry realizes that Mabel (almost successfully!) romanced Gabe by writing an entire opera about how great he is and how wonderful their relationship would be. He is secretly slightly jealous. Mabel writes a skit and/or song that is just as weird but with writing that is less endearingly terrible and more just endearing. so sorry but the idea of Mabel singing to Henry from a sock puppet of herself and him being legitimately touched is so funny to me"

"Dipper, can you please let me open my eyes now?"

From within Henry’s mind, Dipper’s voice rang out.

"No can do brother of mine. Mabel said eyes shut until she was ready with your anniversary surprise."

Henry huffed. “I could have gone into the other room instead of, oh, I don’t know, you forcing me to keep my eyelids shut.”

In his mind’s eye his brother in law smiled a large Cheshire Cat grin. “But this way is funner. And anyway, Mabel says it’s okay to open your eyes now so-“

The force that was keeping Henry’s eyes shut disappeared, and the lack of that weight was enough to throw Henry’s head back, smacking the wall.

"Ow Mabel honey do we-"

Henry trailed off.

In front of him was a little stage, and…

Sock puppets.

Sock puppets everywhere.

Along with twenty pounds of dry ice, some of their stand lamps dragooned into service as makeshift spotlights, Grenda and Candy and Wendy standing by as extra hands, and a sign propped against the stage that read “The Best Anniversary: A Sock Opera”

In the middle of it all was Mabel, with one of the biggest smiles he had ever seen on her face.

She jumped on his lap and threw her arms around him.

"Happy anniversary Henry! I hope you’re ready to laugh! And cry! And then laugh and cry at the-eee!"

Henry was squeezing Mabel tight, his face buried in her sweater.

He really was the luckiest man in the world, Henry thought.

"Love you Mabes," Henry said.

She rested her cheek on his head. “Love you too.”

(unseen, Dipper smiled, once again happy that his twin had found a man who loved her for who and what she was)


	14. Chapter 14

 

Dipper looked at the note in Mabel’s handwriting on the changing table in the nursery.

Then at the wiggling nephew in his hands.

Then back at the note.

Dipper put Hank down in his crib for a minute and yelled down the stairs.

"THAT’S NOT FUNNY MABEL!"

The only response he got was the sound of Mabel laughing hard enough to cry.

"SERIOUSLY-I BET HENRY DOESNT THINK ITS FUNNY!" Dipper shouted back.

Distantly he heard his brother in law say, “It is a bit.”

Dipper harrumphed and snapped his fingers. The drink he had seen next to Mabel before he had come upstairs to change Hank upended itself over her head.

Cheerfully, to the sound of his sister’s sputters, he took the note off the table and got Hank again.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this ask on tumblr
> 
> Anonymous asked: hc: the triplets ask dipper (and his now infinite knowledge) to teach them different languages; both current and ancient ones.

Yes but it’s not as easy as you may think.

Because just giving someone that much knowledge….Dipper can’t do that. He can’t give that to the kids for a few pieces of candy. There is going to have to be something taken in return.

I see the kids asking Dipper this when they are thirteen or fourteen and Dipper hedges and says he’s going to need to talk with their parents first.

So after a bit Henry and Mabel and Dipper sit down and tell the triplets yes you can do this…but only for one language because you’re going to have to give up something big to gain this knowledge.

(Acacia went sheet white and Dipper smiled a bit sadly. He patted his oldest niece’s hand. “Nothing crazy kid, just like…um, giving up chocolate for a year. Sacrifice, dear.”)

Having freaked out the kids sufficiently, they have them further think about it for a few months before going through with it.

(Henry and Mabel argued back and forth a bit on if they’d allow the triplets to do this but Mabel won in the end. “Besides,” she told Henry. “It’s a good way to learn about sacrifice, and responsibility, and a whole new language! Henry still looked worried, so she rolled over on the bed to cuddle next to him. “Besides, this is Dipper we’re talking about. He’d never, ever, hurt them.” Henry relaxed slightly. “Point.”)

Eventually all three make their deals with Uncle Dipper: Acacia will not climb a tree for a whole year and in return learns Spanish, Hank gives up video games for the same period and learns Chinese, and Willow promises not to summon fire and learns Sumerian in return.

(her siblings looked at her. “What? It’s what all the older magical texts use. I can learn Spanish next year at school.”


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From yet another tumblr ask
> 
> boxfullofbuttons asked: There are tech problems when Dipper does his demon shtick too close to anything with circuts. In college he pops in and Hank's computer freezes and Dipper makes deals to fix it in exchange for ramen noodles. And WHY IS THERE NOT ENOUGH HANK LOVE?

Hank ran his hands through his curls out of sheer frustration.

He turned around in his office chair to look at his uncle, who to his credit had a sheepish look on his face.

"Uncle Dipper! My semester project was on there! And I am pretty sure you fried the hard drive!"

Dipper put his hand behind his head, the other holding his top hat.

"Uh, sorry Dog Star" (Hank didn’t mind being called Bright One per se, but when he was sixteen he asked Uncle Dipper if he could maybe have a…um….manlier nickname please?)

Uncle Dipper looked so…so bashful, that Hank had to smile. Eh, he didn’t mean it. (Well, he was 85% sure he didn’t mean it).

"It’s okay Uncle Dipper." He got out of his chair and fished around under his dorm bed for a minute.

He held up a packet. “Fix it for some ramen?”

Dipper gave his nephew a shark grin. “Deal.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from this tumblr ask
> 
> Anonymous asked: Headcanon that one day when Hank is in college, he gets tired of everyone looking at him like he's better than his mom and his sisters so he dyes his hair like, neon green with bright pink and yellow streaks and then he goes on with his life like he hadn't done a thing.

Green. Pink. Yellow.

Nary a strand of red in sight any more.

Hank supposed it really didn’t matter that he was doing this. Oregon State University was four hours from Gravity Falls (and Mom), and the girls were at the University of Oregon down the road.

Green. Pink. Yellow.

But memories died hard and years of him being the “normal” Pines, the “dependable” Pines, still echoed in his ears and in his mind.

Green. Pink. Yellow.

Besides, his sisters and mother had already visited several times and while Oregon State was big and all, word had gotten around about that odd Pines family so…

Green. Pink. Yellow.

Hank would stand with his sisters, his mother, and he was damn proud to do so.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr ask
> 
> Anonymous asked: Did Alcor make any deals with Henry? And if so, what are they like?

On the whole Henry makes the same kind of deals that the rest of the family makes with Dipper.

So like Stan and Mabel, he’ll offer five or six candy bars in order to have Dipper stay on the physical plane for a set amount of time (as opposed to popping in and then popping out again) to help around the house and babysit the triplets. (because yeah the triplets and him can touch each other, but the niblets still need to be fed and watered at some point.)

Then there is weekly beer night, where Henry goes and gets a bomber of some fancy ass beer and sacrifices it so that Dipper can join him and Stan on the porch for some male bonding time type things.

Along those lines, when he and Dipper go out on what Mabel keeps calling bro-dates besides their best efforts, he gives Dipper more candy bars so Henry can see him and Dipper is solid while they’re out.

(Dipper gets a lot of candy bars, but on the other hand, now that he can’t always eat, Dipper really fucking loves getting his hands on candy bars)

98% of the time Henry’s deals with Dipper are just small, silly things.

The other 2% Dipper and Henry would rather not think about


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some quick triplet thoughts

Acacia’s biggest fault is her temper, which is shorter than an inchworm, and has gotten her into endless amounts of trouble. (Grunkle Stan sometimes regrets giving her brass knuckles for her birthday that one year). Sometimes she gets scared of the creatures they run into or the situations she and her siblings get landed into-which is a source of great frustration for her. After all, she’s the oldest, the leader, the one who watches after the other two. She has to be brave or else what good is she? (It’s her dad that reminds her that bravery is doing something in the face of fear. Acacia holds firm to that).

Hank’s biggest fault is that he’s stubborn. It’s hard to tell at first because he is so mellow and disarming and doesn’t like to make a fuss. But once he gets his mind set on something, it takes an almost Herculean amount of effort to get him to change his mind (Hank refused to ride his bike without training wheels because he liked training wheels until he was eight). As well, he can be surprisingly impulsive, which goes hand in hand with his stubbornness. Once Hank decides to do something he does it, without always thinking it through.

Willow’s biggest fault is her refusal to ask for help. Years of medical problems, of having to rely on people at times have made her determined to do things herself. Which isn’t bad until there’s a wendigo in the yard and she’s frighteningly close to an asthma attack but she refuses to call out to Dipper or her siblings because she Can Handle It. The few serious arguments Willow has had with her family all have arisen from this.


	20. Chapter 20

Willow was six when she had her first asthma attack.

It was on a day that she was already staying home from school due to, of all things, pink eye. (To Henry and Mabel’s dismay, Hank and Acacia would get it three days later)

She was curled up on the couch next to her Uncle Dipper, who was watching her while Mom and Grunkle Stan had gone to the store.

They were watching some odd show called “Baby Fights” when she noticed that it was getting a little harder to breathe. She reached in her overalls pocket, took a puff of her inhaler, and snuggled back into Uncle Dipper’s side.

But not a minute or two later, it felt like she couldn’t breathe again.

Worse, like she didn’t even have time to get her inhaler out. She tried and tried to suck in even the slightest bit of air, but she couldn’t, she _couldn’t_ , even as she tried to breathe in faster. Distantly, she heard Uncle Dipper saying something, felt vaguely him pulling her on his lap, saw out of the corner of her eyes her fingernails turning funny colors, and the edges of the world around her turning dark, but none of that seemed as important as trying to get air. Her chest shook with the effort she was putting into grabbing oxygen, the force of her wheezing, and she had never been this scared and

“I got you Little Fighter,” she heard her uncle say from behind her. Indeed, she was nestled up against him on his lap, one hand lying across her chest, the other holding her up.

“Just focus on breathing, okay Will? Deep breaths,” he asked.

She started hesitantly at first, scared that she would start wheezing again, but Uncle Dipper squeezed her hand with his free one and said, “Trust me?”

Of course she trusted Uncle Dipper, she loved Uncle Dipper, also his hand felt nice and warm on her chest, and he felt all yellow and blue behind her, brighter than looking at the sun, so she started to take deep, steady breaths.

They stayed that way for a few minutes, Willow trying to stay calm and breathe deeply, Uncle Dipper sitting with his eyes closed and rubbing her back and muttering under his breath.

Willow didn’t understand why Grandma Pines felt unsafe, all prickly pinky purple, around Uncle Dipper. There was no one she trusted more in the world.

That’s why she had no problem drifting off to sleep in Uncle Dipper’s lap, missing how she gently thumped onto the couch as Dipper faded out of this plane, and into the Mindscape, exhausted beyond all measure.

(It went without saying, he thought, that even though he would not be on the physical plane for the next few days, beyond exhausted at the effort of keeping Willow breathing, that it was totally worth it.)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this HC on tumblr
> 
> "Alcor babysitting some rather young and chaotic triplets decides he could use some help and resorts to Stan's copier. When Mabel and Henry arrive home there are twelve or so toddlers and one very flustered demon trying to use Mabel's glitter glue to put a lamp back together while the house is being turned inside out (not literally yet) by children, demonic and otherwise, having an absolute field day inside. Complete with silly string, magical artifacts and partying gnomes. "

"Put Dipper in charge," Mabel said over the phone from the demonology conference she was attending in Portland. "It’ll be fine, I promise."

So Henry did what the love of his life suggested and put Dipper in charge of his three year old children while he went to the grocery store.

When Henry got back he opened the door to the Mystery Shack to find complete and utter chaos.

The entire library was covered in mass amounts of glitter and silly string. Also there were multiples of his multiple children running around.

There was a manotaur passed out in the corner and three Acacias were drawing on his face in sharpie.

A mixed herd of Hanks and gnomes went by, chattering excitedly and pointing at various things around the Shack.

Two Willows were engaged in a staring contest, Hank and Acacia having long refused to do so with her as ‘she always won.’

Dipper burst into the room, hat missing and bow tie askew, a Acacia and Willow under each arm.

"K͈͚I͏͖̰̠D͉̩̤S͚̫ͅ ̸̭͉̩̜ͅȚ̻̰̼͕Ǫ̟̻̫̗ ͖͚͉͚̦̻̥̕T̝͓̲̮̘̙̤H͉̖͕̦͓̦͘E ̡̤͕̥̙͓K̴I̭̺T̬̯̖C̷̣͎̟̪͉̦He̬̻͎̰̞̹͡n̰͈͍ ̧̹͎̼o̖͍̹ͅḩ̳̞͙ ͘h͇̭̫̼͚͟ͅe̺̮̝̙̪ͅy̢ Henry.”

A pause.

"So, I know how this looks but-"

Before Dipper had a chance to finish Henry had closed the door.

He then spent the next hour on the lawn, lying on the grass and looking at the sky.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this hc on tumblr
> 
> "Anonymous asked: Imagine one of the triplets goes to high school and gets drafted into a group of 'demonologists'. They all try to summon demons but nobody is successful until a new kid in the group with some actual experience manages to summon Dipper. Dipper and (insert triplet here) proceed to have a pleasant chat consisting of "hey uncle dipper" "hey how's math going?" "Not bad, how're the summonings lately?""

Hank wasn’t sure how he had gotten roped into the school’s demonology club, especially considering he was the “normal” triplet in everyone else’s eyes (ugh ugh UGH).

But here he was, lured in by the promise of free pizza.

To be fair there was free pizza.

It was just going to be after this summoning.

Hank was slightly worried. The sophomore who seemed to be running the show, Shondra, also actually knew what she was doing. That worried Hank: noobs who used scented candles were bad, but so were people who knew what they were doing and could call down way worse demons then some amateur hour.

Hank wasn’t leaving because he had a feeling he was going to clean up someone’s mess (also, he was 14 and starving all the time so he was totally going to hit up that pizza). Hank didn’t have the same talents as his little sister, but if he concentrated really hard, he could feel the bond between him and Uncle Dipper. (Though if it came to that, Hank knew that Uncle Dipper would show up at the first inkling of Hank being in trouble)

Hank had been so busy zoning out he hadn’t even heard them start the ritual-stupid Hank, STUPID, just hope it isn’t something big-but he tuned in just in time to hear Shondra yell out the last word-“ALCOR!”

Hank grinned as Uncle Dipper blossomed out of the darkness.

"W͞H͔O̹͖͎ ̣͓D̻͙̝A̗͈R̤̳̦̱E̛̩̭̝̖̦͈̮S̷͇̣͇̗̤͕͔ ̤̟̣̳̹̱͢S̶̥̝̤̪U̶̻M҉͕̙-̮̩̺̦̝̬-oh, hey Hank."

Hank grinned and because he had a perverse sense of humor, crossed the circle to give his uncle a hug.

"Hey Alcor!"

For Shondra and her demonology club, the next ten minutes were some of the scariest of their lives as Hank Pines chatted with the most powerful demon in the world like it was no big deal.

When Alcor disappeared, Hank turned to them and grinned.

"Well, that was nice."


	23. Chapter 23

"You are so fucked."

At the sound of his older sister’s voice, Hank’s head whipped around.

"Acacia! Dad told us not to say that word, even if Grunkle Stan says it all the time."

Acacia glared at Hank, looking as intimidating as a nine year old could.

"Are you seriously going to tell on me?" she cried.

A smarter cultist may have taken some note that the three children they had kidnapped to sacrifice to zk’Alfrubash the Soul Eater, Bringer of Darkness, the Blood Fiend, seemed…surprisingly calm for being kidnapped.

(not that the three of them hadn’t put up an impressive fight before Bob the Accountant had the idea to put a knife to the littlest one’s throat. They came quietly after that).

Hank ignored Acacia, currently criticizing the two hoods who were drawing out the summoning circle with a “Either use blood or use white chalk; red chalk is just STUPID,” and turned to his other sister.

Hank was worried about Willow; she was shivering slightly and her pupils were completely blown, like that time Uncle Dipper had given them fifteen things of Smile Dip each.

Using Acacia’s continued ranting as a distraction (she was now in a three way argument over chalk color with the two hoods), Hank moved over as best he could to Willow. It was hard since the one thing these cultists seemed to know how to do well was tying people up, but he managed to wriggle up next to her.

"Will? Will are you okay?" he asked her.

Willow flinched at a particularly loud “Don’t tell me to shut up I do so know way more about summoning than you” from her sister. She looked at her brother, eyes round with fear.

"Hank, I can’t feel Uncle Dipper and I’m trying as hard as I can and I think they blocked the room off so other demons can’t see and that means Uncle Dipper and there’s blood on the walls you can’t see it but I can and Hank, their colors are bad, and I can’t get rid of them and-“

Willow began wheezing a bit, and Hank bopped his head against her shoulder. “It’ll be okay, I know so,” he murmured.

The two minions, who still hadn’t thought to question the relative calmness of the children they had abducted, had ushered in both the rest of their fellow cultists and their leader, who Acacia had continued to harangue.

"And scented candles? Dude, no demon likes scented candles, except for Falkiya the Smelly. Didn’t your mom teach you any better? No smelly cand-"

The leader backhanded Acacia across the face, the rings on his fingers scratching her face and drawing blood.

(Unseen, the motion of his hand threw one or two drops onto the circle next to them, where they sizzled.)

"Little girls should be seen and not heard," he said in a deep gravelly voice….well, he was trying for deep and gravelly anyway.

Even though Willow was terrified right now, at that she couldn’t help but let out a “Wow, that’s really dumb,” before starting to wheeze again.

"SILENCE!"

Now Hank got in. “Hey dumbas-um, dumbo, my sister has asthma, she can’t be all the way quiet.”

(The drops of blood had stopped sizzling but were now boiling instead)

Acacia had somehow escaped the hold one of the minions had on her and had rolled over in front of her younger siblings.

"Leave them alone!" Acacia shouted, trying to look as scary as possible.

(She was nine, and basically a walking fluff cloud of red hair and a sweater with a platypus on it so it was a lost cause.)

The leader looked at the children at his feet for a second before snapping his fingers.

Three hoods scurried over.

"Take them to the circle-we will do all of them at once. I know zk’Alfrubash won’t mind if he gets all three at once instead of spread out."

The triplets squirmed and kicked as best as they could, but first Acacia, and then Hank were unceremoniously plopped into the circle.

Before Willow was thrown in, she managed to twist around to glare at the leader, who despite himself backed up a bit (he knew it was because her dark eyes were heavily dilated for whatever reason but they still looked pitch black.)

"Toss me in that circle and you all will die," she said calmly.

The head cultist and Willow looked at each other for a second before the man motioned with his hand and she was dumped on top of Acacia and Hank.

As soon as Willow crossed the circle, the chalk began to glow, blue fire and gold light. 

"Um Richard," a feminine voice from one of the hoods asked, "is it supposed to be doing that?"

The leader-Richard-turned to glare at the woman. “N-no, not until we complete the chants and sacrifice the rat-oh zk’Alfrubash, which one of you nimrods futzed up the symbols?”

Circle drawer #1 stepped forward to offer an explanation but before anyone else could say anything all the lights in the room went out.

In the darkness there was only the light of the circle, and a widening Cheshire Cat grin floating in the dark.

Distantly, Richard heard three little voices going “Alcor!!”

Richard hastily muttered the phrase gifted unto him by zk’Alfrubash to summon flame to his hand.

By the light of it he saw….sweet merciful god that was Alcor, the Dream Bender. 

Alcor, the Reality Warper, who had the two little girls in his arms and the little boy astride his shoulders.

Alcor, the Twin Star, who, oh help, was looking right at Richard.

The demon bared his teeth a little more. “Don’t think you’ll be seeing zk’Alfrubash any time soon; he got upset when I took his call so I sent him to his room, as it were.”

He laughed, and the wall burst into bloom with strange, alien looking flowers. “No, no one will be seeing zk’Alfrubash for the next millennia or so.”

The door to the storage unit suddenly burst open, kicked in by a woman in her mid thirties wearing light up sneakers, a big flower in her hair, and a sweater that said “Hot Stuff”.

In any other circumstance Richard would have found her annoyingly twee but not here because she had a fucking baseball bat covered in barbed wire and was currently cutting a swath through the men and women in the room.

She slammed her bat down on one last arm, breaking it with an audible crack, and ran…oh my god ran up to Alcor and, and…hugged him?

(Hell, the demon was still holding those kids rather than devouring their flesh like Richard expected.)

"Sweet Moses you three are okay," the woman said, to a chorus of "Mommy!" from the kids.

The woman took the smallest child from Alcor into her arms, and the demon let the other two gently down at her feet. The woman and the demon looked at each other for a second.

"Who were they trying to raise?" the woman asked, the lights in her sneakers still twinkling.

One hood-Albert the Chef if Richard had guessed correctly-started to try and snatch one of the kids back to use as leverage but a finger flick from Alcor and he was sent flying across the room, hitting the wall with a small crunch.

"They were going to feed them to zk’Alfrubash, Mizar."

The blood drained from her face and she closed her eyes for a second.

When she opened them, she looked at Alcor in the eyes (the eyes! Also that was Mizar? The Gleeful? She was more terrifying than Richard could have imagined.)

"Do what you need to do," she finally said, and took the children out of the room. Richard tried to motion for someone, anyone to stop them but found he couldn’t move.

Judging from the wide eyes and horrified looks on the faces around him, his fellows were in the same boat as him.

The door shut gently behind Mizar, and then disappeared. Alcor stepped over the circle calmly, like it wasn’t a design made for demons like zk’Alfrubash and himself.

Alcor sat on a groaning person lying on the ground, and stripped off his gloves, revealing long, needle like claws.

"So if I am correct, your plan was to take three small children and offer them to zk’Alfrubash for him to eat alive-" His eyes burned. "-in the most excruciating and long lasting way possible."

Alcor looked around the room. “And for what?” Richard opened his mouth to speak but found his jaw snapping shut so fast he felt a tooth crack.

The demon went on, summoning to his hand a pink flowery Emory board with the name “Mabel!” written on it in pink Sharpie, and beginning to work on his claws. “I’m sure it was going to be something silly and pedestrian like power or money or-“and here his eyes flashed again at Richard, “-revenge against your ex-wife for leaving you.”

Alcor finished his left hand and began on his right. “Sending three children to their deaths-and not one of you thought to protest? Or, and here’s a shocking idea, try and do the right thing and stop this from happening in the first place.”

He tsked as he finished his pinky and with a snap of his fingers sent the board back into the ether. He stood up and stretched, and looked around the room.

A gurgle came from his stomach and Alcor grinned, exposing two rows of teeth like that of a sharks.

"Well, ensuring that your patron doesn’t show his face on this plane for the next five thousand years has left me absolutely famished." Blue fire enveloped the demon as he took off his top hat and safely tucked his gloves inside. He turned to them and the look on Alcor’s face made Richard’s blood run cold.

The last thing Richard heard before the screaming started was “zk’Alfrubash is not the only soul eater.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> "whatatatatat asked: After Willow accompanying Dipper to a summons that one time, the triplets start trying to tag along each time he's summoned. Their attempts get more and more elaborate until Dipper has no choice but to st them down and explain exactly why summonings are dangerous things they should never, ever touch."

The problem was that they were six and there was only so much that Dipper could tell them.

(“Scare, not scar,” as Henry once put it).

They just saw him as Uncle Dipper, and didn’t see what the big deal was when Willow was accidentally pulled along with him one day

(One minute they were napping on the couch, Willow in his arms, the next there were cultists all around them and a dead rabbit on the ground and Dipper had been two seconds from almost indiscriminately ripping everyone apart before his common sense kicked in and he saw this was one of the more benign branches of his cult)

or that they really shouldn’t grab on to his coat tails as he flickered out of this plane and on to the next

(That was Hank and Acacia though Dipper suspected it was all Acacia’s idea. Luckily he had noticed them doing it and immediately phased back to the Shack, dumped their little butts in their room, and went back to the summons before they had even a chance to see or hear anything).

and Mabel _reallllly_ shouldn’t have encouraged them by giving them their own ‘demon’ names.

(To be fair, Dipper knew that no parent was perfect, knew that far too well. Still wasn’t helping right now).

He leaned back in Grunkle Stan’s recliner and huffed. Dipper didn’t want his niblings, _his_ kids, to know about the world of pain and fear and death he was called into on a daily basis.

They would find out eventually (he didn’t have details, didn’t  _want_ them, but he felt it, in his bones, that one day they would be in trouble, and it would be because of him. Or, to be fair, Stan or Mabel, but mostly him)

He never wanted them to know about the blood, the flesh, the sacrifices he couldn’t help but feed off of anyway, the dark, the fear of those around him, the sick joy he took from feeding off that fear…

They would know one day but not now. Not ever, if Dipper had his druthers, but even he had his limits.

Grunkle Stan had given him a rather haunted look when the kids were running around the house pestering Dipper this morning and now Dipper knew all too well where it came from.

Grunkle Stan must have felt the same way when Dipper came up to him with a battered old journal. And Dipper could only imagine what it must have been like right after the Transcendence, to know that you failed, because he was terrified one day he would fail Acacia or Hank or Willow and they would be dead on the ground at his feet and-

Wetness.

More specifically, wetness on his shirt, from a niece on his lap. Warmth on his other side let him know that all three of them were currently curled up and on Dipper.

He looked down at Willow, crying into his shirt, soundlessly. Dipper stroked her hair. “Little Fighter, what’s wrong?” he asked gently.

She didn’t look up, just kept crying into his shirt. “Uncle Dipper, your aras..oras… _colors_ are so sad, and you’re sad, and I tried making that bubble around my head you told me to do but your colors popped it and _why are you sad?”_

At that she finally let out a sob, and cried into his shirt harder. He looked at Hank and Acacia, who weren’t crying but were clearly upset as well and holding on to him for dear life.

Well, he was officially the worse uncle ever.

Dipper shifted so that he had Willow in his arms and his wings around Hank and Acacia, and let Will cry for another minute or two, stroking her hair and humming softly to all three of them, before he finally spoke.

"I’m sorry Willow, kids, I’m okay, I promise."

Acacia looked at him over the rims of her newly gotten glasses (she was the only one who needed them-for now). “Why are you sad Uncle Dipper? Is it because Mommy isn’t making potatoes tonight?”

Dipper couldn’t help but laugh a bit at that. “No Pole Star, not that. I’m just scared, that’s all.”

At that, all three of them goggled, completely in shock at the idea of _Uncle Dipper_ being scared.

"Bout what?" Hank asked.

"Of the three of you getting hurt-especially if you got caught up in one of my summons on accident."

"We could get hurt?" Acacia had a look on her face of disbelief, though Hank and Willow looked more convinced.

"Yes, very badly. And that is why I won’t take you with me. It’s not that I don’t love spending time with you or that I don’t want to show you things or take you places. But when I’m summoned, it is very dangerous."

The triplets looked at each other for a second, and then Acacia said, “Sorry we asked to go with you….um, and grabbed your coat to go.”

Dipper hugged all three of them hard. “It’s okay.”

In the hug, Hank poked Dipper a bit. “Can we keep the names? Mine’s really cool.”

Dipper grinned. “Of course!”

He got up, still holding his niblings. “Now, who wants to go and convince your mother to make mashed potatoes tonight for dinner?”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some minor worldbuilding!

In the wake of the Transcendence, what surprised Dipper and Mabel the most was that most people seemed to…adjust relatively easily to the new world of the supernatural. Though when the evidence is suddenly screaming and flying and whirling all around you, it was pretty hard to deny the existence of magic. 

So most people kept living their lives, not paying mind one way or the other to the world of the supernatural around them, just taking it as a fact that their children would need summoning classes in school if only to learn what not to do, and getting gnome proof trashcans, and smiling at the sight of firebirds in the sky riding the thermals.

Some threw themselves wholeheartedly into this new realm of magic and wonders, demons and monsters, for good or for ill.

Some retreated, unable to handle this new world.

Some decided to fight back. 

One such group was the New Caney Methodist Church, based out of Denver. In the thirty years since the Transcendence they quickly became notorious for the ferocity and venom they directed towards the supernatural. Consistently underlying the protests, the sermons, the prophesizing, were rumors that they did more than what they showed in public. Kidnapping. Beatings.

Cleansing.

For thirty years Gravity Falls remained relatively unscathed, mainly because even most extremist groups don’t have a death wish.

That had now changed.


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this anon tumblr ask
> 
> "basically cults have seen Mizar appear at summons and now the triplets (well, Willow) too. They've gained reputation: Mizar as Alcor's Wife/Other Half/Familiar/etc, Willow as his kid. And likely people have seen Alcor rescue the triplets when kidnapped for sacrifices. so what about HENRY? I want Henry to have a (frightening) reputation related to Alcor too plz"

Josefa opened the course book for her freshman summoning class, a ‘who’s who’, as it were, of demons and their attachés.

She flipped to Alcor first, because it was always hysterical to see what they got wrong.

Under “allies” she saw the following.

"Woodsman, The. Also known at times as ‘The Scarecrow’ or ‘the Tall One.’

While the Woodsman has not been seen nearly as much as Mizar the Gleeful, he has appeared enough for some basic facts to be attributed to him.

The Woodsman has been described as inhumanly tall and pale, with fire in the place of hair, and black pits for eyes. Always he is seen carrying an ax and garbed in the clothing of a cliche version of a lumberjack, thus contributing to his Name.

While not as flashy as Alcor or as exuberant as Mizar, the Woodsman is still not to be trifled with, though of the three he is described as the most merciful and calm. Descriptions of his appearances describe him as slow to anger, but once done so, impossible to stop. Like Mizar, the Dream Bender can choose to lend some of his power to the Woodsman, increasing his destructive potential tenfold (see “The Caney Patch Massacre” on page 112).

As with Mizar and certainly Alcor, do not, for whatever reason, attempt to summon the Woodsman.”

Once Josefa finished laughing, she reached for her phone and summoned the Woodsman.

"Grandpa! Grandpa Henry you won’t BELIEVE where you just showed up-"


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this corner worthy prompt  
> "Mabel outlives Henry, right? In the event that she does, how does she react to his death?"

Mabel reacts like someone who just lost their spouse of 65 years would react.

She completely inconsolable for a time afterwards. She can barely make it through the funeral. There are days for months, years afterwards, that Mabel has to make herself get out of bed, days where she pulls out one of his shirts and buries her face in it, smelling the trace scents of his cologne and shampoo, days where she turns to tell Henry something and he isn’t there any more.

But Mabel keeps going because she knows that’s what Henry would have wanted her to do, and there are the kids, and their kids, and now there are great-grandkids too. The sweater business is still going strong because people really flipping love Mabel’s sweaters. She and Candy and Grenda and Wendy hop into Grenda’s convertible every other weekend and drive to Bend to paint the town red.

She sits on the rocker on the porch with Dipper, and watches the firebirds soar in the sky, hand in hand with her twin.

It hurts.

It feels like her heart has been ripped out and burnt up.

But life is still sweet, and Mabel will relish what time she has left.


	28. Chapter 28

Hank’s feet-his puppy feet as Mabel called them, were currently positioned on top of Dipper’s own polished black shoes.

Dipper himself was bent almost over in half, little chubby hands holding on to fingers tipped with claws.

"Ready kid?" Dipper asked.

Hank didn’t actually speak anything outside of a “bwah!” but his little nephew was radiating waves of happiness and security, all soft pink and burnished gold.

Dipper smiled. The more he settled into demonhood, the more it meant to him to have a tiny human trust him completely and implicitly.

"Let’s go," and began to walk Hank on his feet in circles around the Mystery Shack.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this ask on the blog
> 
> "OMG! That latest ask about Dipper getting caught in a dreamcatcher. What if his parents put up dreamcatchers above their bed after that?"

Mabel had gone into their parent’s room to get something-but she couldn’t remember what because hanging over their bed, searing its way onto her eyes like a giant middle finger, was a dreamcatcher.

Mabel remembered distantly last week her mom walking in on Dipper getting caught in the one she had had over her bed. At the time her mom had laughed too and it had made Mabel feel good because maybe it was a sign they were finally getting used to Dipper.

Evidently not.

Mabel had been trying hard, painfully hard, to be calm and understanding this past year. Even when she wanted to yell and scream, she hadn’t.

She knew her parents loved them, loved both of them. Mom would grab Dipper up into long, hard hugs when he was on this plane, hugs that had a whole bunch of awkwardness and pain and sadness in them, but hugs. And Dad and Dipper would still sit in the living room (after Mabel had unobtrusively summoned him in their bedroom) and put together model airplanes.

But they wouldn’t look Dipper in the eyes anymore.

And it was funny how Dad’s business travel had ramped up so significantly as to keep him away almost every weekend now, and Mom was magically more busy at work and at her volunteer group as well.

(At least they had never brought up the suggestion again that Mabel just “pretend” that Dipper was dead while they were at school. Up until this point now, Mabel had never been so furious, had never actually yelled at her parents until then).

They loved them and Mabel tried so hard to be understanding but she was thirteen and their daughter and this was their load to bear not hers and there were tears going down her cheek.

She wished they were back home in Gravity Falls.

Mabel looked at the dreamcatcher over the bed.

Well, the one thing she could do was make sure Dipper didn’t hear about it.

Mabel got on the bed and took it down, then went and hid it where she kept her pads in their bedroom, ensuring that Dipper would never, ever see it or find it

(At dinner that night she could feel her Dad almost speak to bring it up. She beamed her biggest smile at him, a challenge.

Nothing was said.)


	30. Chapter 30

Mrs. Robinson looked at the top drawer of her desk.

In the back was a pack of Camels, a constant base line of temptation she had kept in there since she quit smoking twenty two years ago, when she found out she was pregnant with Benjamin.

Today Acacia had managed to pop out five panes of glass from one of the windows during lunch using nothing but one of those little sticky hand things you got out of a machine.

Today Willow had accidentally (and judging by how upset Willow looked, Mrs. Robinson was inclined to believe her) set fire to a pile of leaves on the playground after sneezing and the fire department had to be called out.

Today Hank had…well, it was hard to tell since Hank was such a sweet little boy and so good with all the other kids, but one minute she had heard one of the fifth graders make a very ugly remark about Willow and before she had a chance to go over and correct the boy, Hank had leaned in and said….she wasn’t sure what, but she was sure that second graders usually didn’t make children with three years and four inches on them run crying hysterically to the bathroom.

And Mrs. Robinson just had a feeling that that…that…uncle of the Pines children would be popping by this week.

She looked at the top drawer of her desk, and then Delethia Robinson reached in, grabbed a cigarette, and went outside to have her first smoke in two decades.


	31. Chapter 31

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this prompt
> 
> One of the triplets (which ever would be most likely to be wandering around in the woods alone) discover a human hunting magical creatures or Henry's antlers being tangible to certain magical creatures.

One of the unfortunate side effects of the Transcendence was the burgeoning underground hunting of magical creatures.   
  
Sentient magical creatures.  
  
It was of course beyond illegal but that hadn’t stopped big game hunters of the past going after every elephant and rhino they could.  
  
Occasionally one of these “preter-hunters” would try their luck in the woods around Gravity Falls.  
  
They quickly found out why that was a Bad Idea.  
  
——  
  
Acacia grinned over at her dad, using his extra long reach to grab some crabapples she couldn’t get a hold of. It was nice to have her dad to herself, she had to admit.  
  
It was just them two this weekend: Gruncle Stan and Hank were fishing and camping a few hours away at Stan’s favorite spot. Mom and Willow were attending a demonology conference in Corvallis; Uncle Dipper had gone with them so Acacia fully expected at any minute for them to come home smelling like smoke and with stories about their shenanigans.  
  
It had been a lovely Saturday so far. They had combined a visit to Cousin Wendy with some driving practice for Acacia and they had only almost crashed three times. (Henry had gotten out of the truck at Wendy’s house and could swear to himself he felt a grey hair coming in). They had gone to see Aunt Grenda at her pet store while they were in town and she had gotten to pet some baby teacup Griffins.  
  
Now they were at home and in the forest, gathering crabapples to make a pie for Sunday dinner when everyone came home.  
  
“One of my earliest memories is going with Wendy and Mother Corduroy-your great-grandmother-to pick crabapples,” her dad told her as Acacia held out the bucket for him to drop the crabapples in. “It’s her recipe we will be using tomorrow too.”  
  
They moved from that tree and started to look for another one, Acacia leading the way. She knew these woods like the back of her hand and it was nice to show them to her dad.  
  
Then a unicorn ran past them, an arrow in its flank and blood streaming from the wound.  
  
Before Acacia had a chance to say or do anything, her dad had put an arm around her, grabbed the grappling hook from her belt, and hand them up a large sycamore.  
  
She clambered on to the branch right below her now dangling feet and her dad joined her a second later, handing the grappling hook.  
  
Acacia wanted to scream, to fight, to jump down and follow the unicorn and make sure that it was okay but the look in her dad’s eye stopped her.  
  
Below they heard a rustle and then three middle aged men emerged, clad in orange vests, and camo suits. Two of them had bow and arrows, albeit the kind one saw at Cabela’s, and the other had a rifle.  
  
“Damn,” said the taller of the two with a bow. “Almost bagged it. I’ve been wanting a ‘corn head to hang in the study.”  
  
“Don’t worry Terry,” the hunter with the gun said. “I’ve not gotten any gnomes yet-“  
  
“Roger, what on earth do you want gnomes for?” the other man with a bow and arrow asked.  
  
“Well Jim, my taxidermist told me he could make them into a tableau of them golfing or playing instruments, and I thought Marcy would get a kick out of that.”  
  
Evidently deciding that now was a good time for a break, the three of them reached into their packs and grabbed some snacks and water.  
  
Henry was busy memorizing their faces to show to Dipper when he got home (in case the police he was going to call as soon as the coast was clear wasn’t able to snag these assholes) when Roger asked “Hey Jim, why you got a net in your bag?”  
  
“I heard there was a witch that comes out to these woods-a red headed one  too!”  
  
Henry’s blood ran cold and next to him, his eldest daughter looked like she wanted to jump down 30 feet and rip a man’s throat out with her teeth.  
  
Jim went on. “I know some guys in San Francisco who’d pay top dollar for a witch, and this one is supposed to be young so I’m sure she’d be easy to tame.”  
  
Henry felt a tap on his shoulder and saw Acacia looking at him, eyes wide with fear and anger. “Daddy,” she whispered, sounding five instead of fifteen for a second. “I can see your antlers.” She paused. “And the hands.”  
  
Henry blinked and suddenly he could the presence of them, in the air around his head.  
  
Henry wasn’t sure if this was going to work, if he wasn’t about to get an arrow to the throat or a bullet to the brain.   
  
But they were looking for his daughter.  
  
Henry turned to Acacia, who was pale with fury.   
  
“If this doesn’t work, I want you to summon your Uncle Dipper.”

Any other time Acacia would have argued, insisting she could help but instead she grimly nodded.

Henry closed his eyes. Time to see if that tug, that spot he felt in his soul late at night when he couldn’t sleep was actually something or if he was about to be wrong. Deep breath and-

—-

One minute Roger was cramming some trail mix in his mouth and the next minute a monster had landed next to him from the tree above.

He choked on his trail mix, and frantically tried to get his bow and arrow ready, noting that Jim and Terry were doing the same with their weapons.

The thing was tall, taller than even Roger’s cousin who played basketball for Kansas State. It was wielding an axe that oh, oh god, the handle was growing _into_ his arm it was a _part_ of him and Roger felt the trail mix and beef jerky in his stomach want to come up again. It was sheet white and its head was crowned with blue fire. Antlers spiraled out of its head, strange antlers that were as much wood as they were bone.

Hands dangled from them, blood still fresh and glistening where they had been cut.

Before Roger had a chance to move, to even think, there was a swish, and a burn and-

Unimaginable pain.

Two bows and a gun lying on the ground.

Four new hands on the monster’s antlers (in his shock Roger recognized his and Terry’s hands….and both of Jim’s were there).

It looked at them, writhing on the ground in pain, and even though it didn’t have eyes, just black pits, Roger recoiled from the anger he saw within them.

” L̶ea͟v͟e͠. N̢ow. ́And͏ never̕ ͡c͟om̸e ̨ _b̶ac͝k̨.͢”_

Staggering, the three erstwhile hunters got up, and stumbling at first, ran out of the small clearing they were in.

The Woodsman took a deep breath, felt his axe leave, the antlers melt back into his head.

Henry opened his eyes.

Oh shit.

“Acacia, are you okay sweetheart?”

A voice from up in the tree.

“Yeah Dad! That was kind of badass, but I wish you would have let me come down too-I wanted to kick them in the nuts before you let them go.”

Henry smiled, even though he still felt kind of sick.

(he could feel the hands swinging in the air around his head)

“Can I come down now?”

“Yes honey.”

A zipping sound and Acacia came floating down by way of grappling hook, the bucket of crabapples in her other hand.

Acacia ran over to him and buried her face in his shirt. Under Henry’s arms she was shaking despite herself, and a brief thought ran through his head that he should have taken more than their hands.

“Can…c-can…can we still make pie?” Acacia managed to stutter out, and Henry’s heart broke again because he knew his oldest, knew she was probably terrified and didn’t want to show it.

“Yes, of course we can still make pie.”

He looked down into the bucket.

“We have enough for two pies; I think we should get one for ourselves tonight after the day we had. Sound good?”

Acacia knuckled away a tear that definitely totally wasn’t there okay, and nodded.

She took her father’s hand and together they walked home.


	32. Chapter 32

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr ask
> 
> Okay bout the Mabel and fam goes around on vacation with dipdop, how about Mabel bringing them ALL to Key West, Florida. B]

"Is…is Stan flirting with a mermaid?"

Mabel looked up from writing “Hot Stud” on her sleeping husband’s chest in sunscreen, past her brother, and out to her Grunkle and children who were playing in the surf.

They had found out within the first day of their vacation that Key West was home to one of the largest populations of merpeople in the world. Hank had quickly made friends with a mergirl his age and now in the shallow surf the triplets were busy playing with several merpeople their age, looking to relax under the sun in the warm shallow water. They were being watched over by Grunkle Stan and Akara’s grandmother.

And yes, it did indeed look like Grunkle Stan was flirting with Moriah, who for her part didn’t look unpleased at the attention.

Mabel opened her mouth to yell out at the two of them but Dipper (clad in a hilariously old timey bathing suit) slapped a hand over her mouth.

"You’ll spook them off Mabes."

Mabel licked Dipper’s hand and he recoiled in disgust. She crossed her arms and harumphed. “I was just going to give Stan some pointers!” Mabel grumbled.

Dipper looked at Grunkle Stan, who currently had Moriah flapping her tail up and down in hysterics (he was a little afraid to know what story Stan told to get that kind of reaction from  
her).

"I think he’s got it Mabel," Dipper said.

"Well, he learned from the best," Mabel crowed, stretching out on the towel next to Henry.

A second went by and she sat up.

"I meant me," she clarified.

"Yeah I had got that-I’m going to look over the kids so they can have some space."

With that Dipper popped on the physical plane and ran towards the kids. Mabel lay back with a smile and relaxed in the sun.


	33. Chapter 33

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because Dipper totally has an object form a la Bill

Mabel would never, ever, EVER admit it to Dipper, but it creeped her out a tiny tiny bit when he turned into his object form. Even though it was also kind of adorable.

(It reminded her of the day everything changed, of seeing a triangle with murder in his eye going for her brother and the screams that followed and she was thinking about something else now)

That being said, Mabel thought as she leaned against the door frame and looked into the attic room, the triplets got a huge kick out of Uncle Dipper turning into a star.

Dipper was hanging in one corner of the room, just out of reach of small six year old hands. Acacia was looking at her uncle with indignation.

"Uncle Dipper! Come down!"

"Nope."

"Uncle Diiiippperrr I didn’t mean it when I said I wanted to put you on top of the Christmas tree! Promise!"

Willow looked up from her coloring book at her sister then at her uncle. “She’s lying,” Willow said and then continued to color.

Acacia gaped at Willow. “Will! You’re supposed to be on my side!”

Willow shrugged.

Acacia turned to Hank who was playing with some Lincoln Logs.

"Hank! Let me get on your shoulders!"

"We still wouldn’t be able to reach Uncle Dipper," Hank pointed out, brow furrowed as he tried to make the tallest tower he could.

"That’s why we’d stand on the top bunk silly."

Dipper caught Mabel’s eye and bobbed up and down. He blipped back into his normal form and came down from the ceiling.

Acacia pouted. “Uncle Dipper!”

Dipper sat on the floor next to Acacia and Willow, and pulled his oldest nibling onto his lap. “You can’t put me on the tree kiddo. But we can make a star to put at the top?”

Acacia nodded. “I suppose….but only if it looks like you!”

Mabel grinned. “I’ll go get some supplies,” she said from the doorway.

(The star with a little top hat, bat wings, and a pitch black eye went on top of the tree every year after that)


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this prompt
> 
> Can you write something about Acacia how she and Stan are practising to fight. And Mabel is like no Youre not gonna fight, hurting someone isnt okay and they do it now secretly- Alcor knows that and have to lie to Mabel that theyre doing smth else

Mabel leaned in the doorway and watched Stan take the kids through some basic jabs and punches.

Mabel took a drink from her coffee. She was glad all three of her children were learning the basics, but Mabel had a feeling it would be Acacia who would be her boxer, her brawler.

One thing that all of them-her, Henry, Dipper, Stan-had all agreed on was that the kids needed to know how to defend themselves. After all, their uncle was a demon and their mother was a known supernatural rights activist and investigator so the chances of someone going…going after the kids was high.

(She had had a rare moment of self doubt when she was five months along, and Henry had found her curled up in her sweater on the bed. He had taken her into his arms and let her sob. “Maybe I should…should stop-” she had finally said when she had calmed down a bit, even though just saying those words tore her in two.

Henry wiped a tear from her face. “No, you shouldn’t. What you and Dipper do is important. We’ll take care of the kids and we’ll show the kids how to take care of themselves.”

He was seriously the best.)

Mabel’s children were learning how to defend themselves, and who knew? Maybe one day they would defend other people as well.

Pines didn’t start fights, but they definitely finished them.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr request
> 
> Dipper taking the Niblings to a park?

One minute Dipper had been taking a nap on the couch, the next when he woke up he was in the air, and tethered by a scarf to the hand of his nephew, like he was a balloon.

Willow sensed that he was awake and looked up at him.

"Mom and Dad said we could go to the park if we took you and we got a candy bar for you when we get there," she said.

Dipper drifted down and picked up Hank, who giggled.

"What kind of candy bar?" Dipper asked. It didn’t matter because for his niblings he would take any one sided deal or offering, do anything for them.

Acacia looked in the little bag from the convenience store Dad had handed her. “Extra large Snickers,” she reported.

Of course, then again, his sister knew him as well as herself.

Dipper gave a shark grin. “Excellent.”

—-  
Dipper sat on a bench and happily watched his niblings run around while he savored his candy bar. It was good for about 45 minutes of corporeality, enough time for three rambunctious seven year olds to run some stink off of them and be ready to go home and eat dinner.

The wonderful thing about Gravity Falls was that he was in full view, suit and wings and burning eyes, and no one even lifted an eyebrow. Everyone knew him, if even a regretful amount of them also remembered when he was that kid that never seemed to take a shower.

(Dipper was grateful, so grateful, to have a place where he belonged, and he could be Uncle Dipper, or Mabel’s brother, or Stan’s nephew)

Hank tripped over his shoelace and landed hard on his hand. He ran to Dipper and showed him the scuff on his hand.

"Can you lick it better please Uncle Dipper?" Hank asked.

"Sure kid." Dipper gently took the proffered hand and licked the scrape on his left palm. For the price of a few drops of blood, Hank’s scrape went away.

(Anyone else other than family, and it wouldn’t be that easy. Dipper tried not to think about the reasons for that.)

Dipper continued to eat his candy bar, slowly as he could to savor each bite.

Acacia had, unsurprisingly, gathered the entire playground together for a rousing game of tag. His oldest niece had a crazy amount of charisma at her disposal and-

And she was currently perched precariously on top of the playset. “Acacia! Move down a bit!” Dipper yelled at her.

She stuck her tongue out at him but did as she was asked.

He shook his head. Every time he brought them here Acacia did that and every time he got after her for it. One of these days she was going to fall and crack her head.

(Well, no, because if it came to that Acacia would be landing on him rather than the ground. It was the principle of the thing though.)

At some point Willow had gotten tired and crawled onto the bench with him, and laid her head in his lap. Dipper began to stroke some of her long wavy hair.

"What do you see Little Fighter?" Dipper asked.

Willow turned her head up to look at Dipper, and reached a hand to boop Dipper on the nose. “You!” she cried, and then burst out into infectious giggles.

Dipper felt a yank on the bond between him and Mabel. Dinner time.

He whistled and his niblings came running. He put Willow on his shoulders, took Acacia and Hank by the hand, and the three of them blipped home.


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the request "Acacia's wedding"

Everyone was outside waiting.

Acacia looked at herself one last time in the mirror, one last time as a single woman.

Suit? Check. She and Mom had gone to Portland to get a custom suit made for her for the wedding, and Grunkle Stan had given her one of his bow ties and his eight ball cane to not only use for the wedding, but to keep as well.

(she had cried long and hard in his shoulder, and Grunkle Stan had awkwardly patted her on the shoulder and she pretended not to notice he was crying too)

Top hat? Check. Uncle Dipper had taken his off right before she went in to get dressed and it was perfect because it floated just above her hair, as not to mess it up.

Makeup? Check. Willow had come in with her amazing Technicolor dream palette of eyeshadows and blushes and managed to do some kind of magic to her face that Acacia wasn’t sure she could ever replicate on her own.

(it was ironic, that she was a painter, but when it came to the paint that one put on their face, Acacia was totally pants)

Rings? Check and in her pocket. On her wrists was a blue ribbon (something blue courtesy of her mother) and an opal bracelet (something old courtesy of her father; it was Mother Courduroy’s).

Last thing then. Acacia covered the ruins of her right eye with the eye patch she had made special for this day, white and embroidered with their initials and the day’s date.

Acacia took a look at herself.

She looked like….like a grown up.

Who would have thought?

She grinned and snapped at the mirror, before turning on her heel to leave her bedroom, and join her bride on the front lawn of the Mystery Shack.


	37. Chapter 37

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> Mabel teaching Henry how to summon the Dippledops

"Mabes, how can I get in contact with Dipper if you aren’t around?"

Mabel lifted her head up from Henry’s lap and looked at her fiancé.

"I mean, I don’t ever know if he’s in a room unless he comes on to this plane or if you are there, and I know he can’t always pop into existence and-"

"No Henry, that’s a great idea! I should have shown you earlier! I’m a doinkus."

Mabel rolled off Henry’s bed and onto the floor with a heavy thud. “Let me get some stuff from Wendy real quick okay?”

Mabel ran out of the room yelling “WENDY!” at the top of her lungs. Henry could hear his fiancé run down stairs, and then thuds as she moved through Uncle Dan’s house.

Mabel came back in the room a minute later with a handkerchief embroidered with some kind of symbol and two extra large Snickers bars.

The symbol on the handkerchief was of a star, with a circular band enclosing it. The band was split into four quadrants, each with a symbol in it: a pine tree, a shooting star, a triangle with a dot in the middle, and a lobster claw thing.

"So, all you need is a copy of Dipper’s summoning circle-"

Mabel saw the somewhat incredulous look on Henry’s face. “This one is just for us, this isn’t the one people use to summon him.”

Mabel went on. “A circle, an offering-Dipdops REALLY loves Snickers, a bit of blood for the circle-“

Mabel pricked her thumb with a needle she had plucked from her pocket.

"-and an incantation."

Henry was expecting a long stream of Latin, but instead Mabel said “Sweet Moses where the flip-flap are you DipDip?”

A stream of dark smoke streamed from where the drop of blood touched the circle. It swirled around Henry and Mabel, before slowly coalescing in the middle of the room.

"How did that look?" Dipper asked Mabel, readjusting his hat.

"If I were a cultist or someone else, I’d be crying right now," Mabel said.

"Maybe you can weave in between people’s fingers and legs?" Henry added.

Dipper whipped a pen and notebook out of thin air, took a note, chewed on the pen, and then both disappeared back into the ether.

He crossed his legs and began floating in the air. “What’s up?”

"Nothing brobro, I just wanted to show Henry how to summon you when I’m not around. But I got two candy bars for you-that’s like twenty minutes on this plane right?"

Dipper grinned that shark’s grin of his Henry was still getting used to. “Deal!”

They spent the next twenty minutes chatting and planning dinner later that night. Before Dipper left to answer another summons, he looked at the circle on the handkerchief.

"I think I need to change this," Dipper said, and laid a finger on the yarn, which wriggled under his finger.

With a wave and a poof Dipper plibbed out of the room, and Henry picked the handkerchief up to see what change Dipper had made.

Instead of the circle having four sections there were now five. The star was buffeted now by a pine tree and an ax.

Mabel squealed something that Henry thought may have been “OMG” but it was hard to say.

She tackle hugged him. “Henry, Dipper added you to his circle!! That is so sweet I don’t know if I’m going to cry until I puke or puke from crying.”

"Um, maybe just some crying no puking?"

Henry looked down at the handkerchief. He wondered why an ax-he would have said a book himself.

(They wouldn’t think much about it until twenty years and a dark trailer later, about why Henry would be represented by an ax.)


	38. Chapter 38

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> Henry's first time seeing the lamby lamby dance.

Henry had woken up to the sound of his children wailing in three part harmony over the baby monitor.

He started to get up when all the sudden they stopped crying, and started to coo and laugh instead.

Henry looked at Mabel quizzically, but she was in the deep sleep of the utterly exhausted.

He got up. The kids sounded okay but now he was curious.

Henry made his way through the house and up the stairs to the attic. The nursery door was already opened a crack, and Henry popped his head in.

And then froze.

There were the kids in their cribs, laughing and squealing.

And there was their uncle, the omniscient and utterly terrifying demon…in a lamb costume singing “Who wants a lamby-lamby? I do! I do!”

Henry smiled, and quietly popped his head out of the door and headed downstairs.

That was the sweetest thing he had ever seen but he didn’t want to embarrass Dipper. It could be their secret.


	39. Chapter 39

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr request
> 
> Tbh I'd just be happy with more of Henry and Dipper hanging out and being supernatural bros (before or after Henry becomes the Woodsman is fine either way.) No idea for a specific prompt so... Random words: Forest, hugs, fire. Also Henry getting REALLY mad at someone somehow being able to hurt Dipper or vice-versa would be rad.

The fire leapt and swirled, bright blue flames licking towards the sky.

It was also about ten feet tall.

Henry looked at Dipper.

"When I said ‘campfire’ I didn’t mean ‘bonfire’."

Dipper blushed and his ears drooped. “I sneezed.”

Henry smiled and clapped him on the back (it was nice that he could see and hear and touch his brother in law anytime he wanted now, like Mabel and the kids).

"Dipper, it’s okay, I was just teasing. As long as we don’t burn the forest down we’re fine."

Henry bent down to pick up one of the six packs he had picked up from Deschutes Brewery for this occasion. “Come onto our plane for some beer?”

Dipper grinned. “Deal.” There was a pop sound and even though Henry had been able to see him before, now Dipper cast a shadow.

Dipper grabbed two beers, popped the caps off with his teeth, and offered one to Henry.

Henry took it and tried to remind himself that Dipper wasn’t going to break his teeth pulling a stunt like that.

They both sat on a log Henry had pulled up earlier and spent a minute in silence watching the fire burn. It was just them and Stan at the Shack tonight; Mabel and the kids had gone to Portland for the weekend, to help Candy run her booth at Crazy Dan’s Knife and Flamethrower Show. Stan was supposed to come out here with them but he had gotten distracted by a movie marathon on Lifetime (and, Henry suspected, his joints were aching from the cold) and sent the two of them out on their own.

"Is it me or is it getting easier for you to be on this plane?" Henry asked.

Dipper finished shotgunning his first beer, and looked at Henry. “What do you mean?”

Henry drank his beverage at a more leisurely pace than his brother in law had. “Four or five years ago, we would have had to make a way more formal deal than that to get you here. Even two years ago I would have had to have a bigger offering. And now I can casually offer you-” Henry looked over “-three six packs and here you are.”

Dipper popped open another beer with his teeth (Henry winced) and took a more leisurely slurp. “It is getting easier for me,” Dipper finally said. “It helps too when it’s Mabel or Stan or the kids.” Another swig. “Or you.”

Henry smiled a bit at that but noticed the downward cast in Dipper’s countenance. “That question bothered you,” Henry said. “What’s wrong Dipper?”

Dipper rolled the bottle between his hands.

"One day, I won’t need any of this-" he waved his hands at the craft beer "-at all. I’ll be able to be physical, whenever I want, wherever I want."

"Oh." Henry paused for a second, trying to think this through and-ah.

"What am I going to become Henry? I…I can do so much already, too much, and I just keep getting more powerful and what’s going to keep me from being even more of a monster than I already am and-“

Henry gave Dipper a small slug on the shoulder.

"You’re being ridiculous," Henry told him.

Dipper looked at him agape, looking for a second more twelve than the forty-one he was.

"I am not bei-Henry, I’m being serious!"

Henry took another drink from his beer. “So am I.”

Dipper pouted-actually pouted, which never failed to make Henry laugh.

Henry put his beer down at his feet. “Look Dipper, if there is one thing I will never doubt that you are, that you will be, is a good man.”

"How can you know that?" Dipper asked, an agonized tone in his voice.

"I just do."

Seeing the look of extreme doubt on Dipper’s face, Henry went on. “Dipper, I know you’ve done some bad things…okay, a lot of bad things-“

"Henry, that really doesn’t help-“

"-but so have I." Henry chose to ignore the incredulous look on Dipper’s face as he went on.

"But I’ve seen you, known you for twenty years now. I’ve seen how you are with Mabel, how you are with the kids." He reached over and tapped Dipper on the chest. "There’s a lot of love in there. As long as you have that, I think you’ll be fine."

A tear dripped from Dipper’s face, onto Henry’s hand. It stung a little bit, but Henry had long ago learned not to mind.

"I trust you Dipper. And I know you’ll never let that trust down."

Henry sat back on the log. “Now finish your beer-it’ll go flat soon if you don’t watch it.”

Dipper smiled, and soon the conversation moved to other things.

(Millenia later, when even the memory of Henry had receded to deep, deep in Alcor’s mind, still there was the knowledge that someone trusted him once, loved him, and the least he could do was live up to that trust).


	40. Chapter 40

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> Dipper singing BABBA and Stan and Mabel recording him without him knowing.

“Disco girl, coming through, that gi̻̮͖͜ͅr̜̤̰̹̹̦͞l͇̼̱̩ ҉̦̱̠̜̰i̧s̫̳̞͡ ̰̖y̙̭̕ò͓̬͉̟̯u̯̤̣̝̱̺̙u̧̼̺̘͇u̴̮u̧͚̥͖u̗̤̞̞̰̠u̳͔̯u̼̲̬̲ụ̯̝͓̪u̖͙̖̭͝uu̷̘̖̱͕͎ͅu͍̙̝̙̳͚u͉͍̗u̫̼̻͔u͍̤͍̪ụ͇̪̖̫͔́ú̜̲̤̝̳-“

Mabel and Stan popped their heads into the nursery, unseen by Dipper.

Dipper had Acacia on his lap, clapping her little hands together in his, and singing “Disco Girl” by Babba at his niece.

Dipper warbled “coming throooooooooooooooooooooooooough!” and Mabel looked at Stan.

“Grunkle Stan, get the camera.”

Stan, who could only tell what was happening by the fact that Acacia was floating in the air above the chair, grinned and went to get the camera.

Even if he couldn’t see it, the knowledge that Dipper would be embarrassed as hell was worth it in Stan’s eyes.


	41. Chapter 41

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this prompt
> 
> "More Demon Alcor who does bad things without regrets. More Human Dipper losing the mortality battle."

Dipper was sitting on the roof of the Shack, in the hang out spot Wendy had showed him and Mabel so many years ago. He had a massive pile of pine cones next to him, and every few minutes he’d toss one at the target sign that was still on the totem pole. 

He hadn’t needed to make a deal to be on this plane or expand any effort. Dipper had-he winced-eaten well today.

Hank, his Bright One, his nephew, had been snatched on the way home from kindergarten by a new cult who had made their home by the elementary school.

(In one of their minds, Dipper had seen that their reasoning for renting the house by the school was for the “easy pickings” and the world had gone even more red after that)

Mabel had been able to fight off most of them, and keep them from taking Willow and Acacia, but eight against one wasn’t a fair fight, even for someone as kick ass as his twin, and one misstep was all it took for a member to swoop in and take his Hank.

Dipper had found out about the details later from Mabel; Dipper himself had been hanging from the ceiling and trying to see how many marshmallows he could land on Stan’s face before he woke up when all the sudden he felt a stab of fear and terror from Hank, and complete and utter anguish from his sister.

Dipper went straight for Hank, knowing without thinking where his nephew was.

(How could he not, when Hank held so much of Dipper’s heart?)

He had gotten there in time to see a blindfold being placed on Hank’s face, a circle to summon Malachora the Inevitable being drawn, and knives being sharpened.

Dipper’s memory kind of blanked from there; it was all a blur of blood, his claws and teeth tearing and rending, souls being torn from their earthly vessels and being eaten.

Dipper threw another pinecone at the totem pole. It hit with a satisfying thwonk sound.

He had scooped up Hank as soon…as soon as he was done, and blipped them home. And now he was on the roof tossing pinecones at a faded piece of paper.

Dipper was feeling bad…because he wasn’t feeling bad.

Well, no, he felt fucking awful right now, the lack of guilt he felt eating him up almost as much as actual guilt would.

But every time he tried to feel remorseful for what he did, all he could think of how terrifyingly close today was, how much danger his nephew, his Hank, had been in.

Hank had almost died. Hank who was five almost six, and loved getting piggy back rides from Dipper. Hank whose tears Dipper had wiped away, Hank who Dipper had made an inordinate amount of peanut butter and banana sandwiches for.

(he had felt the exact moment when Hank and his sisters burst into being, the side of him that sounded uncomfortably like Bill at times cried. He had felt them come to be and they were his niblings, his kids, his and how dare anyone even touch a hair on the head of one them)

And the worst part was he would do all over again if he had to, was going to do it all over again and-

A pinecone hit him upside the head.

He looked down to where it came from.

There was Mabel down on the lawn, with some wiffle bats and light plastic balls.

“Broseph, you going to sit up there and pout all afternoon, or are you going to play some ball with me and the kids?”

Dipper floated down and Mabel grabbed him into a hug.

“I know you’re worried,” she said, reading him like a book. “And maybe it’s good to worry. But for now, enjoy being here, with us, with the kids.”

She held him back at arm’s length.

“And if you don’t stop being such a Debbie Downer, I’m going to give the kids squirt guns and have them chase you until you cheer up. Got it?”

Dipper smiled despite himself.

“Got it.”


	42. Chapter 42

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from this prompt on tumblr
> 
> "transcendence au prompt: sometime when the triplets are still babies, mabel takes them to see their grandparents again to try and patch things up. anna or mark slip out a pretty harsh comment about dipper while holding willow, their aura colors change, and willow - feisty baby that she is - recognizes that they're being rude somehow and bites them. she doesn't have teeth yet, so it's not that bad, but 'righteous fury' is kind of an unusual expression for a baby to have while gumming your hand. "

Well.

This was delightfully awkward, Mabel thought. And by “delightfully” she meant “horribly and painfully so” of course.

Mabel tried to remind herself it could be worse-her parents could be like Henry’s. 

(The last time they had spoken to Arnold and Rita, it had been to let them know that their grandchildren had been born. The call lasted all of two minutes and it ended with Henry hanging up on them. For all her parents’ faults, they at least had never been verbally abusive like Arnold, or creepily religious like Rita. And Mabel never doubted that they loved her and Dipper.)

The problem was that however much her parents loved them, in this case, love just wasn’t enough.

She turned her attention back to the living room where she, her parents, and the babies were currently sitting and chatting. It had been several months since her parents had come down to see the kids for the first time (and left as quickly as they came.) As it had been a few months, and summer was winding down, her mom had invited all of them down to Piedmont to stay for the weekend and to “clear the air.”

It was just her and the babies; Henry had to work all weekend at the library thanks to the flu taking out most of his coworkers (all three of them), and Dipper….Dipper didn’t want a repeat of last time.

That Dipper felt that way, that their parents made him feel that way, had had Mabel on edge all this weekend.

To be fair, Friday and Saturday had gone well. They had eaten out at all her favorite places in Piedmont, they had taken the kids to the pool and it was of course adorable as hell to see three tiny redheads in little floats bobbing up and down in the water. Her parents had had a triplet in their hands the entire time and of course Mabel had taken lots of pictures.

Mabel should have known it wasn’t going to last, because here it was Sunday, waiting for ‘Alcor Airlines’ as she liked to call it when Dipper blipped them places and her mother was asking “Mabel honey, are you sure it’s…safe for Dipper to take you and the kids home?”

Mabel reminded herself to stay calm.

“Yeah Mom!” she said cheerfully, willing herself to ignore any undercurrents of doubt and fear in her mother’s voice (hold on for twenty more minutes, hold on). “Dipper blips us places all the time!”

“Blip?” her dad asked, Acacia on his lap.

“Well, Dipper says ‘tesser’-you know, from A Wrinkle in Time, because he thinks it makes him sound cool, but I like blip better, because blip is more fun to say.”

Her mother had gone slightly pale, and Mabel’s dad asked “Aren’t you worried that…that…teleporting is going to hurt the kids?”

“Nope!”

Her mother had unknowingly tightened her grip on Willow and Mabel’s youngest began to squirm a bit. “Mabel, I know you can trust your brother, but you really need to think about your child-oooh, ouch!”

Willow, with all three of her teeth, had clamped down onto Anna’s hand, not even gnawing, but biting as hard as a nine month old baby could.

(if Willow had the capability to describe what she was feeling and seeing, she would have said that she didn’t like being held by someone who was all magenta and stiff, and hurting the bright woman she loved best)

In between Mabel handing Hank off to her dad, getting Willow from her mom’s lap, and then going to get her stuff from upstairs, the subject was dropped, and Dipper showed up a little early, preventing any further awkwardness.

Back at the Shack, Willow in hand, Mabel gave her daughter a big smooch on the cheek.

"Good job Willow-cat."


	43. Chapter 43

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> based off this HC from tumblr
> 
> "Dipper true-naming the triplets was always meant to be a preemptive measure to avoid trouble before it started. The number of times trouble bloomed anyway, in relation to their true names, can be counted on two hands. Once, someone guessed the triplets names correctly, and tried to control them. Once, one of them was cursed and they were only able to be cured thanks to dippers knowledge of their name. The number of times dipper has had to actively use their names to restrain or control them is 5"

**Three Times Dipper Had to Use The Kids’ True Names**

1.

Dipper loved his niblings.

Really, he did.

And he loved how each of them were unique, special, different in their own ways.

He was trying to remind himself of that last part right now because he was pretty sure Acacia was literally trying to drive him crazy.

In the last two hours he had caught her trying to climb onto the roof (fine if she was 11 or 12, not so much when she was 7), had to break her and Willow up from fighting because Acacia had been pestering Willow, caught her with her hand in the sugar jar, and he had to remind her three times that the Library was supposed to be a quiet place, and not to, say, go running screaming like a banshee through it.

Dipper had just finished putting up all of the books that Acacia had managed to take down (thanking Mabel for having the foresight to summon him on this plane to babysit this afternoon) when he heard a crash from the living room.

He blipped in the next room and there was Acacia, and the recliner tipped over.

Dipper’s temper snapped.

"P̷olari͟s! ͡St͟o͝p ͞i҉t ͡right _͡no͢w_.”

Acacia immediately seized up, and froze in place.

Dipper went over to right the recliner and turned to lecture his niece. Acacia’s eyes were wild, white showing all round her irises, and fear rolled off of her in sickly yellow waves.

Oh god. He fucked up.

"Polaris, Acacia, you can relax now."

Acacia collapsed in a puddle onto the floor. Dipper went over to talk to her, and she immediately got up and ran crying upstairs. He could feel her dive under their bed.

Fantastic. Mabel was going to kill him (if he didn’t do it himself first).

2.

This wasn’t supposed to be happening.

This couldn’t be happening.

Dipper knew before anyone else, knew as soon as his newest grand-nibling was born, knew as soon as he felt that bond on his heart begin to flicker and fade.

Felt Willow bleeding out, felt her dying and _no, **n̡͎̹̖̥o.**_

He didn’t even wait to explain to Mabel and Henry, to the niblings in the waiting room, but blipped straight to where Willow was.

There were doctors, nurses, orderlies all around him, swirling in a mass of chaos and cries, but Dipper drifted through all of them, to take Willow’s hand in his.

"A͢n̷t́àr̛es," Dipper said. "Come back honey, it’s not your time yet."

He channeled as much power as he safely could through his niece, willing her to live, to survive, to staunch the bleeding, all the while calling her by her name.

After a minute or two, he felt her begin to stabilize, for the wounds to begin to heal, and Dipper relaxed. He would worry and freak out later. For now, he had family to reassure, and a new nibling to Name.

(Dipper didn’t realize he may have overdone it until Willow woke up and her irises were a familiar shade of gold now and oops.)

3.

Even before Vivienne had called the Shack with the sound of tears in her voice, Dipper knew that Hank was in trouble.

He blipped to the small house that Hank and Vivi lived in in Portland and immediately was faced with almost the entire Dinner Crew.

Vivi, who had been sitting at the table with Lucy Ann and Teena and several other women of various shapes and species surrounding her, got up as fast as she could around her pregnant stomach, wrapped her arms around Dipper, and began to sob.

Dipper was freaked out now because he had never, _ever_ known Vivi to cry like this.

"Vivi, Vivienne, what’s wrong, where’s Hank?"

Vivi started to speak, but broke down again, sobbing into Dipper’s shirt.

Lucy Ann came by the two of them.

"A lamia has Hank, and none of us can find them-she’s hiding his aura from us."

Dipper grinned. It showed off both rows of teeth.

"She can’t hide him from me."

And indeed, he felt that link under his heart, strong and vibrant. It was only a matter of seconds for him to plib to where the lamia was holding Hank, deep in the sewers underground.

"Let him go, and I will let you live."

The lamia just laughed at Dipper, and then hissed.

"He’ssss mine now, my lover, mine and no one elsssse’s." She wrapped her snake body further around his nephew. Dipper noticed his glazed eyes, the pall over his usually bright aura. Fuck.

All he said was, “I think his wife would care to disagree with you.”

She just laughed again, and flicked a snake tongue against Hank’s ear.

"I have him well and truly under my control little demon. Do you think he would lissten to her? Or to anyone elsssse but me now?"

Well. With _that_ opening….

“ _Sir̴ius̴_ ,̀ ͏s҉na͞p out ̴ơf ̕i̡t.”

Hank’s head shot up, his eyes unglazing.

"Unc…Uncle Dipper?!"

He twisted around in the lamia’s grasp, to take in her shocked visage and her snake body twisted around him.

Dipper grinned his shark smile again as Hank summoned his bat to hand and got to work.

Honestly. When would people learn that his niblings were _his?_


	44. Chapter 44

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More in the line of "Hank and His Supernatural Mafia" but we're not quite there yet so here it goes.

Lucy Ann sat on a bench, and watched as Hank’s family and the Dinner Crew partied. The log shack that Hank had grown up seemed about ready to fall into pieces from the mass amount of people dancing, talking, and blaring loud music.

Hank’s uncle suddenly appeared next to her, and Lucy Ann took the opportunity she had been waiting for to sock him in the stomach.

Alcor let out an “oof!” and fell backwards off the bench. He was up a second later, brushing himself, and grinning at Lucy Ann, showing that he had two sets of razor teeth, just like a shark.

Lucy Ann grinned back, showing her own fangs.

“Whew, that felt _great_ I forgot how _good_ pain feels!” The demon looked over to the house, where the party raged on, and took a deep breath, closing his eyes for a second.

Dipper looked at her, and raised an eyebrow. “But seriously, what was that for?”

“Do you know how old I am?” she asked him.

“4813 years old,” Dipper promptly responded. “You were born in 2762 BCE in-“

Lucy Ann, if she were alive, would have felt the blood drain from her face. “ _How do you know that?_ ”

“Omniscience. Um, ish. It’s still a work in progress.”

Lucy Ann knew better, she really, _really_ knew better than to ask but she was also old enough-heh- to know that if she didn’t ask, she would regret the missed opportunity.

“Do you know who my maker was?”

Dipper nodded. “Yes. Do you want to know?”

Lucy Ann was silent for a long, long minute.

Finally, she shook her head. “No. Let the past be the past. The time where that would have meant something to me has come and gone.”

She paused for a second. “Please tell me that fucker is dead though.”

“She lasted for three more months, and then was caught and forced out into the sun by some farmers near where you were born.”

Lucy Ann burst out laughing and punched the air.

“YES! Suck it!”

Dipper rubbed his stomach.

“But seriously, why did you punch me again?”

Lucy Ann looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

“Dude, I’m pushing five thousand. And one day you’ll be in my shoes. But you-“

She socked him in the stomach again.

“- _you’re not stuck looking perpetually five years old.”_

Dipper got back from the ground, where he had fallen off the bench again, and rubbed his stomach.

She had a point.

“I can change that for you.”

Lucy Ann froze. Finally she said, “Can you demon?”

Dipper snapped his fingers, and blue fire lit his left hand. “For a price of course.”

“Dude, what makes you think this is the first time this offer has been made to me? Or that this is the first time I’ve even sought it out? Witches, cults, demons; they have all tried and failed. What makes you think that you’ll be any different?”

“I’m not like other demons,” Alcor stated.

“Dude that sounded like that came straight from _Twin Souls_ ,” Lucy Ann couldn’t help but notice.

“Oh no, not you too,” Dipper groaned, and then they both laughed.

“But seriously….what would I have to give, in order to look, say, twenty five instead of five?” Lucy Ann asked once they had settled down.

Dipper closed his eyes and thought for a second.

He opened them and looked down at Lucy Ann. “You would never be able to see the sun again.”

“What?”

“As old as you are, as long as you’ve had that form…I would need a really big sacrifice to make up for it.”

Lucy Ann felt the breath leave her. Dipper could do it, she didn’t doubt it. She had heard about Alcor, heard about what he had done over the last twenty years or so, saw his Mark on Hank.

The thing she had longed for so long was in her grasp.

And yet, to never see the sun again.

She remembered the first time she had seen the sun, after almost a thousand years of darkness. As long as she lived, she would never forget that moment, of seeing the sun rise over the banks of what was now called the Thames, of realizing that it no longer had the power to hurt her….

“Can, can I think about it?”

“Yup.” His head twitched, and he looked off into the distance.

“I gotta run-let Mabel know?”

Lucy Ann got up from the bench. “Yeah, sure.”

Dipper took his hat off and pulled something out of it. He offered it to Lucy Ann. It was a….a business card.

A business card covered in glitter glue and foam letters.

“My card, if you ever change your mind.”

He bowed to Lucy Ann and plibbed out of existence.

Lucy Ann looked at the card in her hand, and then shoved it into the pocket of her cloak. She had a lot to think about, and right now, more than anything else, she wanted to get completely shit faced.

Lucy Ann walked back to the party.


	45. Chapter 45

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this hc on tumblr
> 
> "You know that thing dogs do where they kiss your face and accidentally stick their tongue into your mouth? Imagine Dipper high as a kite giving someone a tongue bath and accidentally doing it. Henry's just like 'jfc dipper', he's not even surprised or weirded out anymore."

anonymous asked:

You know that thing dogs do where they kiss your face and accidentally stick their tongue into your mouth? Imagine Dipper high as a kite giving someone a tongue bath and accidentally doing it. Henry's just like 'jfc dipper', he's not even surprised or weirded out anymore.

Henry had been sitting on the couch, minding his own business, when Dipper popped on this plane, and his eyes were so blown almost all Henry could see was gold, rather than the usual gold on black.

Oh fuck, someone had gotten Dipper stoned again.

Before Henry could yell at Stan or Mabel to get the cold water, Dipper had sat down on the couch next to him. A beat, and then Dipper glomped onto him, to borrow a term for Mabel.

There was no better way to put it: Dipper had latched on to Henry and then tipped them over so Henry was lying on the couch and Dipper was all hands and legs and wings pinning Henry down.

Henry was very confused now.

Then Dipper began to lick Henry’s hair, like he was a giant Dipper-cat.

Oh god, he had been doing this to the kids when he was high on Yggdrasil (or as Mabel called it, “dipnip”) but he never thought it would happen to him.

It wasn’t bad per se, just weird.

Henry opened his mouth to yell for his wife but then Dipper, who apparently was going for a spot on his cheek, accidentally stuck his tounge in Henry’s mouth.

Just as Mabel came into the room.

The three of them were frozen in that tableau for a minute (well, not Dipper, who was too out of it to notice, and kept licking Henry’s face).

"Mabel-" Henry started warningly, but it was too late. She had a look of almost unholy glee on her face, and out of nowhere had whipped out her camera.

(In her scrapbooks was a page labeled “Bath Time!” and in between pictures of the triplets getting baths as infants and toddlers was a picture of a highly disgruntled looking Henry, with Dipper on top of him and a bit of ginger hair in his mouth.

Mabel had labeled it “Brother bonding time!”)


	46. Chapter 46

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dipper be tripping on dipnip

Henry should have known something was up when Dipper popped back into the living room after a summon.  
  
The fact that Henry could see Dipper meant he must have gotten a substantial sacrifice. He was….swaying on his feet.  
  
Henry put down his newspaper. “Dip, are you okay?”  
  
Dipper ground his hand in his forehead. “No…yes….ugh, I don’t know, that guy sacrificed a pig to me, and then he blew a lot of smoke in my face, and all he wanted was a Red Hot Chili Peppers LP.”  
  
“You had…a classic rock junkie kill a pig for you just to get an old vinyl record.”  
  
“And he blew a bunch of smoke in my face; said I should live a little.”  
  
Henry looked at Dipper up and down.  
  
“You look like you’re about to throw up.”  
  
Dipper swayed. “I…think I’m going to lie down a bit.” He reached over to Stan’s recliner and snitched the blanket Stan kept there, before going to the one empty corner of the room, making a blanket nest, and promptly falling asleep.

Henry shrugged, and went back to reading the paper. Mabel came in a minute later with some knitting for her shop, and snuggled up next to Henry.

The three of them sat and/or laid in a corner with one’s face smooshed up against the wall for a few minutes until over the baby monitor they could hear one of the kids-probably Acacia-start to cry.

Before Henry could even start to get off the couch to take care of the kids, Dipper shot up from his position on the floor. His pupils were completely blown, so that his eyes looked almost entirely gold, and his movements were…off. Dipper looked straight up, as if he could see through the floorboards up to the attic and the nursery upstairs.

He blipped out of existence.

He blipped back a second later and….and….

Well.

There was no other way to put it.

Dipper was scruffing Acacia, his teeth clenched around the material of the back of her onesie. Acacia herself was snuffling, but otherwise fine, seemingly content to swing ever so slightly from her uncle’s mouth.

Gently, ever so gently, Dipper laid Acacia down on the blanket he had been laying on (a distant part of Henry noticed that even being completely fucking weird and out of it and stoned, oh god was Dipper _stoned?_ -he still laid his three month old niece down in a way that she could support herself and be fine).

Dipper blipped again and came back a second later and laid Willow next to Acacia. At this point, Mabel was frozen stiff, unable to process the (in her eyes) absolute adorableness of what was happening in front of her. Henry was worried that his wife was about to, quite literally, explode.

One final blip, and Dipper came back in the room, with a sleeping Hank held in his mouth. Mabel by this time had snatched her camera out of what seemed like thin air and was already snapping pictures.

Henry, who thought he was used to weird shit by now, was speechless on the couch.

Dipper laid down on his side in the blanket nest, quickly settled the kids so they were lying against his stomach, and draped a wing over them.

Mabel had an actual tear in her eye from the feels.

Acacia hiccupped once or twice, but then settled down back into sleep along with Willow and Hank, who were still asleep. Dipper’s eyes drifted shut as well.

Then he started…started…

“Mabel,” Henry said, finally breaking his silence. “Is Dipper purring?”

“Like a chainsaw!” his wife gleefully confirmed.

Mabel caught the look on Henry’s face as he stared at his brother-in-law, curled around his children and purring like an outboard motor.

“Don’t worry, this happens occasionally. Someone probably had some Yggdrasil herb at his summons. He’ll be like this for a few hours.”

What Dipper mentioned earlier clicked in Henry’s head.

“He mentioned someone blew smoke in his face at his last summons.”

Mabel guffawed. “Sweet Moses he’s _really_ stoned again.”

“And when he’s stoned he….acts like a giant cat?”

Mabel nodded. “And he gets so embarrassed when he snaps out of it and it is _great_.”

Weakly, Henry asked, “This has happened before?”

“Enough for me to call it dipnip rather than Yggdrasil herb. He gets so _huffy_ when I call it that  though.”

Henry looked back over at his brother-in-law, still purring loud enough for him to hear it across the room and feel it in the floorboards.

He had to admit, it was kind of cute, in a really weird way.

Dipper blinked back awake, looked at Hank very intently, studying his features, and then began to lick at his hair.

Hank woke up under the attention, and chortled a bit (the triplets had begun in the last week to laugh and coo), as his uncle, for lack of a better term, groomed him.

If Dipper ever, Henry decided, _ever_ said anything about cats again, he was going to bring up this episode because Dipper was pretty much a cat right now.

Willow, while her eyes were still closed, began to make the snuffly sounds that all four of them had learned meant she was hungry.

“I got it Mabes,” Henry said. He went over to where Dipper was in the corner and went to pick up Willow.

Dipper froze, visibly stiffened, and looked at Henry. He exuded palpable waves of malice and anger, so much so that Henry felt sick to his stomach.

(The last time he had felt Dipper this angry and upset, it was at a forest right before he proposed to Mabel and a demon had been about to eat his foot)

Henry kept his cool. “Dipper, I need to take Willow for a second and then I promise to put her back.”

Dipper actually hissed, the hair on his head standing on end, and the black entirely gone from his eyes. Henry started to reach for Mabel anyway and came within two seconds of having two sets of shark teeth clamp on his hand. Henry jumped back a bit, and Dipper curled up even tighter around the kids, glaring at Henry and rumbling angrily.

Henry heard the snap of the camera and he wheeled around to see Mabel there with the camera.

“Mabel, is now the time?”

“Henry, Dipper thinks the kids are his and that is _so cute_.”

“I’m pretty sure I would have lost a finger if he had gotten me.”

Mabel put the camera in to Henry’s hands. “Let me try.”

She went up, and ignored Dipper’s warning rumbles. She reached for Willow (now fully awake and promising to erupt any second into wailing) and once again Dipper hissed at her.

Mabel stood back for a second, and looked at Dipper. “Dippingsauce, you are being ridiculous. I just need to feed your niece, and then I will put her back okay?”

Dipper looked at his sister for a long second, and then nodded, reluctantly letting her take Willow.

But, Henry noticed as he settled back down into the couch, Mabel made sure to feed Willow in the living room rather than their bedroom like usual, making sure to stay in eyeshot of Dipper. Indeed, he did spend the entire time watching Mabel worriedly.

(Henry supposed he should be worried about the kids, but honestly, he wasn’t. Worried about himself and his hands? Yes. The kids? No. Even stoned off his gourd Dipper would never hurt the babies, as proven by recent events.)

Mabel finished feeding Willow, burped her, and then placed her gently back against Dipper. Dipper sniffed Willow’s hair, and began grooming her furiously, purring once again.

“You know, deep down, he thinks the babies are his,” Mabel confided to Henry in a quiet voice.

Henry thought about it for a minute, as he saw Dipper wrap his wing even closer to Acacia, who had briefly shivered from the chill in the living room.

“I’m okay with that. As long as he doesn’t try and bite my fingers off again.”

Mabel grinned. “Why do you think I took pictures? Not just for the cute.”

She thrust the camera in the air.

“FOR THE BLACKMAIL!” she cried, somehow miraculously not waking up the babies.

(the next day, when Dipper wondered aloud why his head hurt so much and he had red hair in his teeth, Mabel grinned.

It was not a nice grin.)


	47. Chapter 47

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the tumblr prompt "Lucy Ann's first reaction to the Transcendence?"

One minute Lucy Ann was laying out in the sun by her favorite public pool in San Francisco, the next minute the world had changed irrevocably.

The world seemed to rocket into clearer focus. She felt her teeth itch, her fangs lengthening slightly, poking a bit out of her mouth. Vividly, intensely, she felt the heartbeat of every other person around her, could hear the blood rushing through their veins, and every muscle in her body tense with the effort of not going and feeding off someone that instant.

Inwardly, she swore. Lucy Ann was acting like she was a hundred all over again. Honestly, she had better control over herself usually.

She leaned back in her little pink chair, and tried to calm down by watching the firebirds soar on the thermals up above.

It took her a second to realize that she was no longer the only one who could see them.

Oh.

_Oh._

Well. This was going to fuck shit up, now wasn’t it?


	48. Chapter 48

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> Dipper and Mabel discovering his buttwings for the first time. Mabel's amusement increases tenfold. Dippers embarrassment also increases tenfold.

This was, without a doubt, the most embarrassing situation Dipper Pines had been in in his entire life.

And considering the last thirteen years, that was really saying something.

But having bat wings suddenly pop out of one’s lower back, and further propel oneself to the ceiling and begin flapping around independently of their owner’s intent-

"MABEL STOP LAUGHING!" Dipper yelled at his sister, his voice cracking to further add to the humiliation conga happening in their bedroom.

"Dipdops you look like…like…like a little bird stuck inside!"

At this Mabel could no longer hold in her laughter, and began rolling around on the ground, tears coming from her eyes.

"Can you at least help get me dow-NO, PUT THAT CAMERA BACK, SERIOUSLY NO-"

(years later, Willow would wonder why this one picture of her uncle flying in a room had singed burned edges)


	49. Chapter 49

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a tumblr request asking for more Hank and his Supernatural Mafia

Hank’s dad was a dryad magnet.

Hank peeked into the kitchen of the small house that he and Vivi had just bought, holding baby Hazel, and saw that all of the dryad members of the Dinner Crew were currently staring intently at his dad, who was trying to drink a cup of coffee.

It was apparently the antlers that did it for them, especially when they burst into bloom in the spring and there were flowers everywhere.

(also, that Henry was so damn tall. And not even for Don Pines would the dryads tell him that they could see the patterns of bark on Henry’s skin, smell earth and wood, see how his branches spiraled to the sky)

It probably didn’t help that Hank’s mom found all of this absolutely hysterical, and encouraged Kao and Penì and Lepam and Curtis and Sah that Henry really loved it when they basked in his glory.

And indeed, there was Kao and Curtis both focusing on the antlers that Hank couldn’t see but knew were there.

Hank decided to save his dad and walked in the room with Hazel.

"Hey Dad, want to hold your new granddaughter?"

Henry smiled and took Hazel from Hank’s arms, and the five dryads in the room sighed rather unsubtly


	50. Chapter 50

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this submission on tumblr
> 
> ""i want realistic modern fantasy like
> 
> someone finding a dragon egg and livetweeting the process of trying to hatch it (with no prior knowledge on how a dragon egg should be hatched)
> 
> a guy selling an enchanted sword on craigslist
> 
> a tattoo artist who does spell runes but for really mundane stuff like conjuring a bound demonic pen or for summoning your keys
> 
> summoning a demon for the vine
> 
> selfies with mermaids
> 
> prank calling wizards”

But no, you know that Hank and the Dinner Crew would wind up involved with that whole dragon egg thing, after Courtney the Nereid was checking her twitter and ran across this dude tweeting and holy fuck Hank he’s here in Portland and he doesn’t even know how to warm the egg properly

And you know that Reina has to bodily restrain Acacia from getting an enchanted sword because “Cariña, the kids are way too little to have that in the house, and doesn’t your Uncle Dipper have five enchanted swords lying around anyway?”

And the tattoo artist Wendy takes the triplets to when they get their tattoos at eighteen knows her stuff, and has special inks for summoning, for binding, for charming (but nothing too serious and besides something tells her that it would be a mistake to pull that stuff on these kids)

Dipper getting summoned for the vine.

Dipper getting summoned for the vine ALL THE GODDAMN TIME (but eh, honestly, there are worse things)

Mabel, getting a selfie with Mermando when he and his wife come by with their kids for a family vacation to Gravity Falls. (further followed by one million adorable as hell pictures of the triplets playing with Salacia, Rick, and Amphitrite)

Stan, teaching the kids at age four how to use the phone, so they can prank call Edward, that asshole who tried to steal a book of spells from the Library, and get away with it scot free because they are four and adorable (and hey, he’s teaching them how to use the phone Henry, I don’t see what the big deal is)


	51. Chapter 51

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After chapter 6 of "The Woodsman"

She had been out of the hospital for a week, and now Acacia was lying on the floor of the living room in the house she shared with her sister and her fiancée.

(Fiancée! She had a fiancée! Reina said yes! That was a thing that was happening!)

She was wearing a pair of super duty safety goggles over her eyes (well, eye and eye socket), and was tossing a tennis ball up in the air and catching it.

Well, attempting to catch it anyway. Two out of three times she failed, and had already had a bloody nose, three hits on her safety goggles, and multiple thwacks on her legs and stomach. Her ophthalmologist had told her to do this once a day, to help with her depth perception.

Toss up in the air, think about the pinched, pained face on Mom’s face that she had never seen before, thwack as the ball hit her stomach.

Toss up in the air, think about Hank coming by every other day despite the hour drive between Corvallis and Eugene, actually manage to catch the tennis ball.

Toss up in the air, Uncle Dipper prowling outside, sparking and actually growling at every little shadow and movement around him, thwack as the ball hit the coffee table.

Toss up in the air, everyone except for Reina treating her with kid gloves, thwack as the ball bounced off of her safety glasses and-

“FUCK!”

Willow, who had been chopping veggies in the kitchen for dinner that night, popped her head out and around the door.

“What is it Maris?” her sister asked (they had nicknames for themselves that not even Uncle Dipper knew about).

Acacia threw an arm over her eyes (eye and eyes socket) suddenly just _sick_ of it all. “Tara, I am….Willow, I am so fucking sick of people treating me like I’m tissue, or ceramic, or this precious delicate thing that’s going to break at any second-I’m going to be _fine_ and, and-“

Willow was giving Acacia the most withering glare she had ever, _ever_ gotten from her sister, in all of their nineteen years.

Willow put the knife back on the kitchen counter, closed her eyes, and breathed in and out for a minute.

Finally, she managed to get out, “Yes, I can’t imagine how that must feel to have everyone you love constantly coddle you due to your health, yes, no idea at all.”

A pause.

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“I never-“Acacia blushed a bit. They were triplets, she should have thought-

“No you haven’t.”

“And I-“she was the oldest, and Acacia _knew_ she was guilty of babying her little sister sometimes.

“Yup.” Willow relented and joined Acacia on the floor, lying next to her on the rug (which had Uncle Dipper’s summoning circle, just in case).

Willow took Acacia’s hand in hers. “It’s frustrating, but you have to remember that you may be dealing with-with-“she waved at Acacia’s face. “-the eye thing fine, but everyone else is still freaked out a bit. Give them time. Remember you love them and they love you.”

Acacia couldn’t say anything, couldn’t think of anything to say (Hank was the one that was good with words, not her) but just squeezed Willow’s hand and began to toss the tennis ball in the air again.

Toss up in the air, have your little sister burn it to ashes with her fire, simultaneously laugh and try not to get ash in your mouth as the bits drift down on the two of you.


	52. Chapter 52

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some notes on the next generation of the Pines family

**Acacia and Reina’s Kids:**

_Josefa_

Josefa is the first grandchild, and as such feels like a big sister not only to her own siblings, but to her herd of cousins as well. Like her Uncle Hank and Reina (aka Mamá), Josefa has a more analytical mind, and is great with logic, math, and puzzles. She’s the most inquisitive of Dipper’s grand-niblings, and is constantly getting into things she shouldn’t.

(“Remind you of anyone?” Mabel had asked Dipper dryly after they had fished JoJo out of the pantry.)

_Stan_

Of Acacia and Reina’s three kids, Stan is the one who inherited all of the artistic talent. Painting, glassblowing, pottery, knitting, chainsaw carving-you name it, Stan can probably do it. Stan also is the only one of Acacia’s kids who inherited the Pines’ streak of magic (or, as Reina refers to it as, a propensity for weird shit. But in a good way mijo, honestly) and anything he builds or sculpts comes to life.

Shenanigans ensue until Stan gets it under control (the less said about his fifth grade art fair the better).

_Serge_

JoJo and Stan were all noise and furor and craziness.

Serge was…still. Was calm. Was quiet.

Acacia worried about her son, because he almost never said anything, was something wrong?

She finally mentioned it to her wife one day when Serge was six, and Reina laughed.

"Acacia, don’t worry about it. Seriously, don’t. Serge is exactly like my Tio Rogelio. Who’s a rocket scientist. He just has a lot on his mind."

(while science and magic had begun to be blended together in the years after the Transcendence, it was Dr. Serge Casteñeda who truly fused the two together, and helped propel humanity towards the stars).

**Hank and Vivi’s kids**

_Hazel_

If you asked Hazel to describe herself, she would have said she was no one special…just Hazel.

But of the four of them, she was the one to get into the most fights in school-looking out for those who couldn’t fight back, who had been teased until they couldn’t take it any more. And Hazel saw them and how _dare_ people be so mean, and that was how she ended up in the principal’s office 38 times over her entire school career. (She could tell Grunkle Dipper was proud in his own grunkly way).

And when she started freshman year at the University of Nevada at Las Vegas and she realized the brownies in the dorms were being mistreated, well, she couldn’t stand for that. And then there was Corey the werewolf who ended up crying on her shoulder on the reg, and that one time she had to go and take down a skinwalker and…

oh fuck

she had a mafia

_just like dad._

(unlike Dad, Hazel fessed up immediately. Over the phone, she could hear GamGam and Grunkle Dipper laughing so hard she was worried that they would hurt themselves)

_Rowan_

Of the four of them, Rowan was like GamGam the most.

GamGam had taught him how to knit when he was little, and sick in bed for a week with chicken pox, and she had come up to take care of him while Mommy was at work.

He wasn’t as loud as GamGam, true, but like GamGam he could appreciate a perfectly done scarf, a ridiculous plan, absolutely terrible food.

Staying strong when everyone else seemed to be down, trying to cheer everyone else up even when you felt like shit, loving adorable animals….

Yes, Rowan was a lot like GamGam (but at the end of the day, he was still his own person, and woe betide the person who forgot that)

_Myrtle and Linden_

Hank was a little unsure how to deal with his two youngest, his twins sometimes because unlike him and his siblings or Uncle Dipper and mom, Myrtle and Linden fought constantly. It was to the point if Linden said the sky was blue, Myrtle would say it was green, just to start something with her twin brother.

They were the most unalike twins on the face of the planet it felt like: Myrtle was tall where Linden was short, Linden looked like mini-Hank while Myrtle looked like mini-Vivi, Linden loved the cold while Myrtle put on her snow jacket when it was 70 degrees out….even the Sight, which both of them had, differed between the two of them; Myrtle Saw auras like Grunkle Dipper and Aunt Willow, while Linden Saw more of the Little Folk than Myrtle did.

And yet they were inseparable, never leaving each others’ side, always together. (Minus the mass amount of bickering, Myrtle and Linden reminded Dipper so, so much of him and Mabel at that age.)

**Willow’s Kids**

_Auriga_

Sometimes, and certainly not in a bad way mind you, Willow wondered if Auriga was secretly Acacia’s daughter.

Mainly because Auriga was the biggest hellraiser on the face of the earth, even more so than Acacia was at her age. If there was an explosion, the sound of accidental glass breaking, screams, or the feel of the building rocking on its foundation, it was probably her daughter doing….well, lord only knew what.

It didn’t help that she had the Sight like Willow, and thus her favorite playmates were will-o-wisps, and _everyone_ knew how those guys were.

But Auriga was kind, and was absolutely excellent with her younger siblings, and never had a harsh word for anyone (she did _not_ have Acacia’s temper thankfully) so in the end, that was all Willow could ask for.

_Rob_

Okay, I’m going to totally cheat here. Imagine Greg from OTGW, Bubbles from the Powerpuff Girls, and the most precious cinnamon bun that is too good and pure for this world.

That’s Rob. He complements his twin well.

Also, he becomes a geologist, which confuses most everyone outside of the family, but not Willow, who remembers hours of fossil hunting and rock gathering when Rob was little.

_Annie_

They were seven when the redheaded woman towing a toddler with her came into the orphanage.

Annie noted her and then went back to her Lincoln Logs on the floor, blowing the woman off. Annie had long ago gotten used to the fact that her and Rob were probably going to be here until they grew up. Annie was seven, not stupid, and she noticed how adults went for the babies first, then the white kids, and then if they were desperate, the kids with no siblings.

(Annie was proud, fiercely proud, that she had made it clear from day one that she and Rob would never, ever be separated. Even if it cost them the chance to go to a home, there was no way in heck her and her twin would be taken apart).

Then the redheaded woman came over to her, got down on the floor with Annie and asked “Can I play with you too?” and Annie’s world changed forever.

(the sarcasm and suspicion never left though. But that was what made Annie Annie and Willow would never want her daughter to change)

_The Pleiades_

Willow couldn’t count how many children she eventually took in

(no that was a lie for effect, _of course_ she knew how many kids she had, their names, their likes and dislikes, their souls)

Many were kids that Dipper rescued from a bad situation (often when he dropped them off there was blood on his mouth, and the smell of smoke and pain on him), some were kids Willow rescued herself, and then there were kids that Willow fostered as an actual foster parent for the county.

Having so many kids meant that sometimes money was tight and the Shack was often super cramped and noisy, and her life was kind of constant chaos, but Willow loved all of her children, and she wouldn’t have things any other way.


	53. Chapter 53

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From a wonderful idea by clockworksinger on tumblr! All them here, :)

The mistake the three of them made was assuming that Willow was the only one with magic-after all, she had the Sight and could make fire, and spells always came easy to her. Hank and Acacia had never minded; that was Willow’s Thing and both of them had their own Thing and all in all everything was okay.

But they also forgot that magic ran in the Pines family.

(if anyone had ever thought to ask Grunkle Stan, he could have told them some tales about his Bubbe Miriam that would have blown their minds)

———

Hank remembered thinking at one point when he was twenty two, and he hadn’t even met Lucy Ann yet or started a goddamn mafia on accident, that he felt himself becoming bound to Portland, that he and the city were slowly but surely becoming bound together.

  
That was easily forgotten about though.

  
Even though Hank started to notice that he never caught a red light.

  
Or that the White Stag sign seemed to glow impossibly brighter whenever he went by.

  
And he and Vivi never had a problem parking their VW Bus downtown in one of the few, precious free spots.

  
And sure he started to notice a correlation between an almost crippling stomach or head ache and then there being some kind of horrible trouble going down but that was probably a coincidence. Even though it happened more times than he could count.

  
And cars never seemed to bother him when he was biking…in fact, the lanes seemed to empty out in his wake.

  
Hank was 31 before he and the city of Portland became one.

  
(or, if you want to be pedantic, One, but Hank had never mastered the art of speaking in capital letters)

  
One moment Hank was on the ground, the sound of blood and death around him and a vague throbbing underground below, frustration like a tidal wave within him because he just needed to know where Ben and Mindy and reinforcements were so he could stall this rogue djinn and the next-

  
Portland was a Chinook woman with the most gravity defying Mohawk Hank had ever seen, more piercings than he could count on her face, a flannel jacket covering a shirt with the Adidas logo on it, and jeans with band patches sewn into them. She smelled like fish and coffee and beer and the river, and she gave him a kiss on the spot between his eyes and shoved him, shoved his soul right out of his body and into the ley line below-

  
-and Hank saw that Ben and Mindy were two blocks away, feet pounding the pavement, pigeons watching them from the electrical wires, and then he was back in his body and stalling for the correct amount of time to ensure that his friends arrived.

  
Then he went home, cuddled his children and wife a bit, threw up in the toilet, and that was how Hank learned at 31 that he was a witch.

  
(He had another shock when he realized that being a witch extended into his soul possessing inanimate objects)

———————

Acacia could breathe the life into anything she made with her hands, bring into being new souls (or old souls, really, any soul that was lying around and okay with heeding her call).

  
It was really rather unfortunate that Acacia couldn’t sculpt for shit and never found this out on her own.

  
She had tried experimenting with clay when she was in her mid-twenties and managed to produce a cylindrical object that one could consider a cup after thirty minutes of consideration and a good adult beverage, and a vase that could only be called a vase in that it was vaguely tallish and thin and could probably hold a bouquet of flowers?

  
Sure the cup sprouted legs and began to follow her and Reina and the kids around and earned the name Deborah Gray White for obvious reasons, and the vase always had clean potable water in it for drinking, but that was surely due to the brownies being lactose intolerant.

  
(It wasn’t entirely foolish of Acacia to assume these things; the world post-Transcendence was full of random miracles of magical wonder, even if said miracles of magical wonder were really rather mundane at times.)

  
It wasn’t until her son Stan shyly admitted to her that the things he had been sculpting all of these years could come to life that Acacia connected two and two together and went “SON OF A FUCKING BITCH.”

  
(She still couldn’t sculpt for love or money. It was enough, Acacia decided, to know that she could if she truly wanted and needed. Besides, Stan was doing rather well on his own).


	54. Chapter 54

They had been married for a year before Henry found out that his brother in law didn’t know how to drive.

Mabel had summoned Dipper onto the corporeal plane for breakfast at Greasy’s Diner, and Henry was dumbfoundedly watching Dipper attempt to shove thirteen pancakes in his mouth at once.

Stan and Mabel were both egging him on (and thank god everyone in town knew Dipper and Greasy’s would never kick them out) when Mabel said “This is going to be an even bigger disaster than when Grunkle Stan tried to teach you how to drive!”

Henry looked up from adding sugar to his coffee, and raised an eyebrow at Dipper, who had unhinged his jaw like a snake at this point to get the pancakes down.

Dipper swallowed and looked at Henry. “What?”

"You don’t know how to drive?"

"No, why would I need to?"

Henry smiled a bit. “Well, you don’t _need_ to but obviously you want to know otherwise Stan wouldn’t have tried to teach you.”

"SICK BURN!" Mabel yelled at the top of her voice, and raised her hand to high five Henry.

Henry high fived his wife and turned back to Dipper.

"Aren’t you omniscient?"

Dipper would have face palmed but was too busy stuffing his maw.

"No I’m-" Dipper started, but then Stan smacked him upside the head. "Don’t talk with your mouth full!"

Dipper swallowed five pancakes at once, his throat expanding in a way that no human body was capable of, before responding with “It doesn’t work like that.”

Mabel snorted. “You’re just upset because you only lasted forty minutes with Grunkle Stan before he gave up!”

Grunkle Stan primly took a drink of his coffee. “Sweetie, I didn’t give up, I made a strategic retreat; I could have taught you both to drive and died of a heart attack after, or just taught you and only get an ulcer.”

Mabel beamed at her grand-uncle. “You’re such a joker Grunkle Stan!”

"He’s not," Dipper said at the same time that Grunkle Stan said, "I wasn’t kidding."

Silence, the sounds of chewing, and in Dipper’s case, his jaw dislocating to shove more food in his maw and snapping back into place.

Henry finished his ham, and looked across the table at Dipper. “I can teach you.”

Immediately, Stan put down his fork, looked solemnly at Henry and went, “Son, do you actually want to make it to next month or are you in that much of a hurry to die?”

"Hey!" Dipper cried.

"No, really I don’t mind, I taught five of my friends in college." Henry normally wasn’t one to preen but here he decided that a small amount of preening was acceptable. "I’m sure it’ll be just fine."

That even his wife looked unsure about this should have been a sign for Henry.

—————-

**T-plus three minutes.**

Henry had sacrificed three bombers of the most expensive beer he had been able to get from Deschutes Brewery in order to guarantee Dipper being on the physical plane for about six hours. 

He had taken the truck and his brother in law to an empty park and ride between Gravity Falls and Bend, and now Dipper was in the driver’s seat, looking more nervous than Henry had ever seen him.

"Okay, so remember, right is gas, left is break, so why don’t we get started and _slowly_ press on the gas-“

Dipper proceeded to slam on the gas pedal, and run into a light pole. 

**T-plus forty five minutes.**

It had only taken three drops of Henry’s blood to fix the damage to his truck; luckily the damage was minor because the Ford was so hearty, and Dipper had been able to take the brunt of the deal because it was kind of his fault.

Now they were back in the car, and only slightly shaken up. Dipper had gently tapped on the gas this time, and now they were slowly but surely doing big loops around the parking lot.

"Do you think you’re ready to practice your parking?" Henry asked.

Dipper beamed. “Sure! I got this; parking’s going to be no sweat.”

Henry pointed to a space that was between two trees.

"Okay, can you pull into that space?"

"Sure!" and then there was a wrenching feeling in Henry’s stomach and a feeling of ‘plib’ and then the car was perfectly centered into the space.

Henry didn’t want to discourage his brother in law, especially since Dipper looked so pleased with himself, so he managed barely to restrain himself from face palming.

"Dipper, you can’t just teleport the truck into the space. I needed you to pull in."

The dream demon looked at him with a look of complete and utter incomprehension.

"Why don’t we try backing up slowly, and doing this again?" Henry suggested gently.

Dipper put the truck into reverse, and promptly backed up into a light pole.

**T-plus one hour, two minutes**

The dent in the back of the truck was slightly more sizable, so Henry had to sacrifice a cookie, and then Dipper insisted on eating lunch before continuing.

Now they were smack dab in the middle of the parking lot, as far away from trees, light poles, telephone poles, and anything else that Dipper could possibly run the car into.

Dipper had a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel, but they had managed a few more laps around the parking lot, and even some successful backing up, so Henry felt confident having Dipper try to park again.

Dipper pulled in.

"Dipper, you’re taking up three spaces. Pull out and try again."

Dipper reversed the truck, and pulled in.

"Okay, you’re still taking up two parking spaces, but hey, that’s one less than before. Great job! Can you pull out and try again?"

Dipper reversed the truck, and pulled in.

"Okay, almost there but the bed of the truck is crossing over into the next space and-"

The bag of leaves that Henry needed to haul to the dump in the bed of the truck burst on fire.

**T-plus one hour, ten minutes**

Henry and Dipper both agreed that Dipper really didn’t need to learn how to drive, and to do their best to ignore any snerks that came from Mabel or Grunkle Stan.


	55. Chapter 55

The first time Dipper killed a living being, one minute he was playing Hearts with Mabel in their bedroom in Piedmont

(all of their old friends had long since abandoned her, ignored her, and it was all _his_ fault that she was stuck playing cards with her brother on a Friday night instead of going out and doing Mabel things and-)

-the next he was in a dark room, pulled by forces he was still trying to understand, trying to manipulate.

He was in a circle, and there were candles (thankfully unscented ones. He had only begun to be summoned like…like Bill, and already he really hated scented candles) and all around him men and women chanting.

Dipper could feel their heartbeats, hear the blood rushing through their veins, the varying levels of warmth each of their bodies gave off.

In between the chanting in Latin he saw a small, too small, oh god don’t let that be a baby, oh god it _was_ a baby, thrust onto an altar in front of a circle.

Saw a sharp silver knife flash in the air above the infant and plunge down before even he could do anything and-

Blood on stone, and a life’s worth of potential, potential memories, potential lives affected, lives saved, lives brought into being flowed into him.

It was ambrosia, it was power, it felt amazing and immediately he rocketed fully onto the physical plane, sparking blue bits of fire because right now he could do _anything_

And it was obscene and Dipper wanted to puke and cry at the same time and it was _wrong._

Dipper was freaking out, freaking out like he never had before because _someone had just murdered a child in front of him_ but he needed to play along for now.

“W͔̬̥͔͇H̹O̪͙͓͢ ̝̜̰͕͖ͅͅD̫̣̹̰AR̭̼͎̝͈͠ͅE̯̠̣̖S̛̥̺ ̺̹͓͞S̭̼̬Ṷ̖̜͈͇̣̹̀M̢̝̜͓̺̣͈M̳͔̕O͙̥̤͖̦͠N̫͟ ̦̀A̴͉̼̲̱̲L̶̳̟͓̘͔͈C̥͉͇̥O̲̺͎̲̖͚̮R̪̗̞̤͎͙ ̦̭̥̱̲́T̰̕H̠̰̼̩̼̣̮E͘ DR͚̮E̦̖̥͔̙A͍̠͔̟͓̹M͈̟B͕̟̣̻̪̘̝E͕̣͙̤̱̮N̗̹͉͚̬͖̙D̤E͔̭̲͈R̦̖̮?̙͚̰” he managed to choke out, remembering barely

the phrasing he and Mabel came up with to use at times like these last month.

A woman, clad in grey where everyone else was clad in lime, came forward slightly.

“Alcor! By book, by candle, and by blood we have summoned you and now we humb-“

“"͠Ẃ̴h́̕͠àt͡ ̵d̵́o̢͝ ̵̛͠y͢͠ǫ͢u͘͟͞ ͜w̵̢͠a̵̛n̸̵t͢?̀"

“We have offered my daughter in exchange for-“

Dipper was already furious, more furious than he ever had been in his life before. His vision was deep scarlet red (red like the blood spilled before him) throbbing in time with the beat of his heart, the beat of the hearts around him.

He felt like he could do anything right now. And all he wanted to do was make sure that something like this never, ever, _ever_ happened again.

 

The leader of the cultists finished talking. “-her life in exchange for our enemies being destroyed.”

“ _O͙̼̝̰̫̕u̺̥r̭͙_ enemies?”

The woman’s brow furrowed. “Yes, _our_ enemies my lord,” she said in a rather snippy tone for someone speaking to a demon that one supposedly deferred to.

“Oh well then _, o̸̬͇̘͔u̜̳r̩͞ͅ_ ̛͓̰̙̘̖͕e̯͎̻͇̻͎͟n͉e̪̗m͉̭̖͕ie̢̗͚s̷̖̘̟̭ it is.”

Dipper held out a hand, wreathed in blue fire, and only he knew that it was shaking. “Let’s seal the deal.”

The woman reached for it, greed and a sick sort of lust fighting for dominance in her eyes. She shook Dipper’s hand.

And that is when he ripped her heart out.

Dipper didn’t remember the next few minutes in minute detail. He just had sense memories of his claws, still sharpening and lengthening every day, tearing and ripping. Of fangs in a mouth that had gone from one row of teeth to two rending and biting and _eating_.

Hot blood splashing on his face, on his hands, on his clothes and he _loved_ it.

Of souls being rent from their earthly forms and popped into his mouth and why had no one _told_ him that the soul was something he could consume? Or how _good_ it felt to do so?

At some point Dipper stood in a room by himself, and realized that the blood and viscera dripping from every surface was all thanks to him and he froze and

(Mabel Pines would have never expected her brother to come back covered in blood and sobbing hysterically.

She wasn’t sure what to do, what else she could do other than hold him in her arms and let Dipper cry himself out.

One thing for sure though; Dipper was going to need to burn her clothes after he was done because her parents could never, _ever_ know about this.)


	56. Chapter 56

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> "the triplets getting (or trying to get) Dipper to chaperone a field trip"

Mr. Terrance was in a pickle.

He really, really needed a chaperone for the class field trip to the petting zoo (he was _not_ going to be the only adult attempting to wrangle 25 second graders around baby animals.)

But Mrs. Nguyen was sick with the bug that had been making its way around town, Ms. Blubs couldn’t take off of work on such short notice, and Mr and Mr Erickson were out of town on a business trip.

Sighing, Mr. Terrance called the one family he swore never to ask.

——

Mabel had spent the last two days puking her guts out, but she still sounded relatively well on the phone.

"Hello?"

Mabel listened to her children’s teacher’s tale of woe and short handedness, all the while hoping she wouldn’t Ralph while she was actually on the phone.

"And if I can’t get a chaperone, I’ll have to cancel the trip," he concluded.

Mabel was out, Henry was out since all of his coworkers were sick as well and he had to cover for them, Stan was scheduled to go to a rare book sale in Corvallis that day….

Mabel’s eyes drifted over to her brother, currently roughhousing with Hank and Acacia on the floor while Willow cheered on.

"I can’t but their uncle could…"

——-

Three days, and a deal involving eight candy bars and four beers later, Dipper showed up at Gravity Falls Elementary with the kids.

Henry dropped them off on his way to work-no blipping today- but Dipper still had Willow on his shoulders and Willow and Hank’s hands in his like usual.

Henry watched his children and his brother walk into the school.

He had bet Mabel and Stan $20 dollars that the trip would last three hours (of a scheduled four) before it all went to hell. Stan had $40 riding on Dipper lasting thirty minutes, and Mabel had bet $25 and homemade ice cream on her brother lasting the whole time.

There was one thing he was certain about, and it was that Mr. Terrance would probably not call them again for future trips after today.

——

**Twenty Minutes In**

Mr. Terrance had already been informed that the triplet’s uncle…Dipper? What an odd name for a grown man. But yes, Mrs. Pines had told him that Dipper lived in with them and “is really close to the kids, like he’s Dad number two, yanno?”

It was the only reason he could think of as to why Mr. Pines was very… _very_ protective of the kids.

"Mr. Pines, I know you want to sit near your nieces and nephews-"

"Niblings," Mr. Pines corrected, and his voice was odd as well, almost as if it was lacking a depth it usually had.

"Er, yes, niblings. But I could really use you in the back of the bus to keep an eye on the kids there."

Mr. Pines had a look on his face like he had bitten into a rotten egg, but then Willow yanked on his sweater (which was obviously made by Mrs. Pines and read “World’s Okayest Uncle”).

He knelt down to his niece’s eye level in the bus seat.

"What’s up Little Fighter?" (what an odd nickname).

"Uncle Dipper, we’ll be okay. I promise," Willow said solemnly. Next to her, wedged in the seat because they refused to split up, Hank and Acacia nodded.

Dipper looked at Willow for a long moment,and then held out a pinky. Willow enjoined her pinky with his and smiled.

Mr. Pines got up and looked at Mr. Terrance. “Okay, where do you need me?”

**One Hour In**

Marin Short’s Home For Fun Animals was off of a country road between Gravity Falls and Bend, so it took some time for the bus to get there.

And Mr. Pines…had actually been great with the kids once he had stepped away from watching the triplets like a hawk. He had even pulled a kazoo out of seemingly thin air and led the kids on a twenty minute rendition of “The Wheels on the Bus” which, while almost destroying Mr. Terrance’s eardrums, had kept the class harmlessly entertained.

Now they were off the bus and on the farm and there was Miss Short coming out to say hello and there was…

Every animal in eyeshot looking at them.

Silently.

Unwaveringly.

Not a cow or llama or alpaca or ostrich that Mr. Terrance could see even blinked.

They all were just….staring.

(Behind Mr. Terrance’s back, Hank tugged on his Uncle’s sweater. Dipper made a motion with his hand and-)

One minute they had been staring like they wanted to eat the kid’s livers, the next the animals had gone back to doing…animal things.

Internally, Mr. Terrance added this to his list of “The Weirdest Stuff I’ve Seen Since the Transcendence.”

Externally he shouted, “Okay kids, let’s go say hi to Miss Short!”

**One Hour Ten Minutes In**

The first enclosure Miss Short lead them to was the sheep pen.

Within a matter of seconds the kids were all running around, screaming, and trying their best to create as much chaos as humanly possible.

Mr. Terrance looked with wide white eyes for his back up only to see…

Mr. Pines was sitting on the ground in a corner of the pen. On his lap and cuddled up next to him were about seven or eight lambs. Their mothers stood placidly by, seemingly not caring that this strange thing was softly crooning at and petting their babies.

And, after watching for a moment, Mr. Terrance realized that Dipper had somehow organized the kids as well. One of the triplets would grab a classmate, they would pet the lambs for a minute or two, and then another triplet and classmate would come up and the first pair would run off again.

The ability Mr. Pines had to wrangle small children freaked Mr. Terrance out more than the fact that all the sheep seemed to love Dipper.

**One Hour Thirty Minutes In**

Mr. Pines couldn’t get within thirty feet of the ponies without them raring up, neighing furiously, and rolling their eyes frantically.

Miss Short gave Mr. Pines a suspicious look at that point, and Mr. Terrance suggested that Dipper get lunch ready, which he gladly did.

**Two Hours Ten Minutes In**

Every class, Mr. Terrance had found in his ten years of teaching, had That One Kid. Sometimes That Kid was the class bully, other times That Kid was the poor kid who smelled like cheese or the odd kid that was really fascinated with Canadian Geese.

This year That One Kid was the class bully, whose name was Corey Ferens. Mr. Terrence always got on to Corey whenever he caught him picking on the others students but well, he didn’t have eyes in the back of his head and he couldn’t be everywhere at once.

While sack lunches were being passed out, he noticed Corey start to wander over towards Willow, who was the quietest of his students (in contrast to her sister, the loudest). But before he could do anything, Mary had spilled juice all over her and her seatmates and he had to clean them up.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Corey reach out to Willow’s hair.

Before he could turn fully however, Mr. Pines came seemingly out of nowhere and put a hand on Corey’s shoulder.

Mr. Terrence had to look away at that point because Mary somehow managed to spill orange juice _again_ but Corey looked particularly pale and wan the rest of the day.

Two Hours Forty Five Minutes In

"Mr. Pines, I could really use your help!"

Behind him he heard, “IN A SECON **D͖ͅ**!”

Mr. Terrence looked back from trying to corral seven overly excited children away from the two pigs making a piglet to see Mr. Pines…

Mr. Terrence finally lost his cool.

"STOP STARING AT THE GOAT AND COME OVER HERE!"

Dipper made a waving motion with his hand, never once breaking eye contact with the goat.

"No just give me another second; I need to prove this goat wrong, he knows what he did."

"THAT MAKES NO SENSE!"

The goat headbutted Dipper.

**Two Hours Twelve Minutes In**

One minute Mr. Terrance was trying to keep his now entire class from learning how piglets were made, the next minute he could have sworn he saw Dipper stomp his foot and then

the fences to all the pens disappeared.

Everyone-human, alpaca, sheep, goat, pony, cow, llama, tortoise, camel, griffin- looked at each other in confusion for a minute.

Then complete and utter chaos broke out: animals were chasing students who were chasing animals, Miss Short was having a break down, piglets kept on being made and in the middle of it all….

There was Dipper Pines, a nasty grin on his face.

Mr. Terrance swore then and there to never ask the Pines to chaperone again.

Also to get a fifth of vodka on the way home.

(Henry and Mabel ended up splitting the pot, and Hank gave a great lecture at dinner that night about how piglets are made).


	57. Chapter 57

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> "If Lucy Ann went to the Widdlest Wampire premere, how would she react to the movie?"

Lucy Ann made it ten minutes into the movie before she started shouting.

Another minute and her popcorn went flying at the screen.

Shortly followed by her soda.

It took three security guards to pry her out of her seat, and then a round of hypnotizing everyone to stop asking such questions as “Where are your parents little girl?”

In retrospect, Lucy Ann really wasn’t sure what she was expecting from the Widdlest Wampire.


	58. Chapter 58

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from this question on tumblr
> 
> "How does Willow get her reputation in the demon world?"

Willow gets her reputation the same way Mabel did-demon hunting, supernatural mystery solving, explosions and general shenanigans.

Willow had already been helping Mabel and Dipper out starting around fifteen or sixteen with the whole “Mystery Twins” thing, and as both she and Mabel got older, Mabel began giving more and more of the work to Willow until one day Willow realized it had been just her and Uncle Dipper these last five months? And Mom was staying home all the time now at the Library? Whoa.

Willow gets her reputation mainly from the times she goes out on her own-which are really more than anyone likes because Willow has a Hard Time Asking For Help.

(they say that she is the Heart of the Scorpion, the Queen of Fire.

they say that she has no problem yelling at you for thirty minutes even if she has a hard time breathing throughout it

they say she is Gliese, daughter of Alcor, and all who see her perish soon afterwards.)


	59. Chapter 59

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the tumblr prompt
> 
> "using magical powers to skimp on chores is never a good idea. Well, almost never. "

Mabel pulled up in Stan’s old beater in the drive way.

She turned the car off.

Everything was quiet.

Suspiciously quiet one might say. (It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Dipdops to babysit the kids; it was more that she didn’t think said babysitting would be accompanied by complete calm and quiet)

Mabel got her purse, conveniently loaded with a brick for thwaping things, at the ready, silently got out of the car, and pushed the front door open.

Immediately a dancing broom came out of the house.

Followed by a mop, a bucket full of water, dishrags, and four or five bottles of cleaning solution.

Mabel popped her head inside and saw only bubbles.

Literally, the entire living room was full of bubbles.

Occasionally a red head would pop out of the chaos, or a top hat.

"UNCLE DIPPER MOM’S GONNA BE HERE ANY SECOND!" Hank shouted amidst the bubblesplosion.

"Can’t you fix this?" Willow asked, quieter but no less calmer.

Acacia, who sounded like she had also eaten some Smile Dip, was only seemingly able to mutter “bubblesbubblesbubblesbubblesbubbles”

Dipper was acting like a responsible adult and continuously going “Oh no, Oh no, Oh no” as he futilely struggled among the bubbles.

Mabel smiled.

She’d get after the four of them in a minute but first.

She pulled a camera out of her purse

Picture time.


	60. Chapter 60

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this prompt
> 
> "Some guy(s) try to impress one of the niblets (probably Willow) by summoning a powerful demon. When Alcor rises from the circle, the niblet sits back and watches the scene unfold. "

Willow sighed.

Damn her for a fool and damn her for not trusting her instincts.

Admittedly, she was less in grave peril and more stuck in a super awkward social position for the whole night but still.

But between the Thing with Chris (she still watched that video and laughed her ass off sometimes) and the coming realization within herself that she…didn’t like people? In that way? Kissing and sex and yeah, did not want. Anyway between Chris and that, Willow thought she had been successful in giving off a vibe of “thanks but no thanks”.

Evidently not.

This was supposed to be Curtis and Bayani and Tuesday and Rick and Assefa and Jasmine and Lucille all hanging out at Curtis’ house and eating lumpia made by Bayani’s mom.

What it was was just Willow at Curtis’ house and his colors were giving off emotions like ‘hope’ and ‘infatuation’ and oh shit she was going to have to shut this down at one point.

Damn it, she thought they were just friends.

Curtis, meanwhile, was moving a rug in the basement rec room they were in to reveal….

Oh.

Oh wow he was stupid.

Luckily she recognized the circle he had drawn on the floor-

(and even if she hadn’t, a drop of her blood would have changed it immediately to one she knew by heart anyway.)

Willow decided to sit back and watch the fireworks go off.

"So I’m actually pretty good at demonology," Curtis began.

"Mmm-hmm."

"And to demonstrate, I shall summon the mightiest demon of all, the Dreambender, and have him…have him…um…shit, uh-"

"Have him get us some take out."

Curtis look aghast at Willow, and the blood drained from his face. Oops, maybe that was too flippant?

"Orrrrrrr maybe have him just say something and disappear?"

Curtis looked at her blankly.

"You know, something with little cost on your end?"

More blank staring.

"You,um, you got what you’re going to say planned out, right Curtis?"

At that Curtis laughed nervously and said, “Yes, of course!”

(his aura roiled, deep grey and sparks of yellow and the taste of lies…though honestly he was being so transparent Willow didn’t need the Sight to have guessed that).

It was a good thing he was summoning Uncle Dipper who would take care of her light work, otherwise she would have had to spend a good long while knocking some sense into Curtis’ head.

What should have been a two minute invocation took Curtis fifteen, interrupted as he was by relighting scented candles that had gone out, and by the call from his mom upstairs asking him to take the trash out.

Willow really hoped things weren’t going to be awkward after this; Curtis really was a good friend of hers,if not a tad bit on the dopey side. (The sweetly dopey side though!)

Finally there was a cloud of dark smoke, the candles blew out, an aura of fear, two pinpoints of light and a mouth full of razor teeth stretched into a too long smile and

"W̘̻̻̱HO̘͔̪͕̭̼ ̗̳D̙A̛̜̦R̹͝E̹̪̙̤̣̯̹͝S ̸͕͍̣̟̦̺SU̗͓͇̱̼̟M̠̬̣̳͟ͅM̖͉͇̦͇͕̕O̳͕̝͚͉̝̭͝N̥ ̼̺̠̘͓̦ͅÁ͇̜̖̖ͅĹ͔̟C̩O̩̲͝R͏̫͍ ̡̤̲̯͎ͅͅT̘͇̣̹̺͖̯̀H͚̘̥͘E͙̪͠ ̤D̰͔̲͓̫͚͕R̙̭̰͡E̘̩̠̰͡Ḁ͢MB̻̪̟E͈̳̼̗̖͇̕N̫͉̞͉̼ͅD̘̫͎E̡͈̹̘̰̲̫ͅR̝̲̳?̟̠̬̼"

Curtis promptly passed out.

Luckily Willow anticipated this, and had already positioned herself to catch him and make sure Curtis didn’t crack his head open on the concrete floor.

Seeing the situation, Uncle Dipper dropped the act and stepped out of the circle.

"What’s going on Willow?"

Willow smiled crookedly, and rubbed the back of her head, having laid Curtis gently on the floor.

"I think Curtis likes me and wants to impress me."

"By…summoning a horribly dangerous demon that could potentially kill you both?"

Willow shrugged. “I know, I’m confused myself.”

"Well, I’ll read him the riot act when he wakes up. Do you know what your mom is making for dinner?"

(They eventually had to wake Curtis up a second time; the first time he recovered he saw Willow and Alcor playing Go Fish, screamed, and fainted again)


	61. Chapter 61

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this prompt on tumblr which...kind of changed lol
> 
> "I♥the triplets & I think there should b some Henry triplet bonding. They seem 2 bond more with Dipper than him.Maybe have him reading a bead time story?How dose he deal?He’s a father of triplets!There has to have been stress.No matter how chill he is"
> 
> Two is thanks to the wonderful clockworksinger and Five is based off of a line from a great fic written by reddpenn

**One:**

Acacia: Fear

At five and a few months, the kids still got scared by thunderstorms.

The smaller ones they were sleeping through now, but the triplets still had the attic, complete with leaky roof patched with tin and massive window that rattled at the slightest touch of breeze.

On nights like these, when the lightning rent the sky every other second, and the thunder shook the Shack to the foundation, if the kids couldn’t corral Dipper into cuddling with them, they would all run to Henry and Mabel’s room, to sleep out the storm sandwiched between their parents.

And yes, there was Hank somehow at the foot of the bed, and Willow was on half of his pillow and Acacia….

Where was Acacia?

Slowly, Henry disentangled himself from his wife and children, and surprise Dipper, and quietly made his way upstairs to the triplet’s room.

There was the triple decker bunk bead they had just put in two weeks ago when they were sure the kids would be able to sleep in it without falling out or hurting themselves, and there in the corner of the top bunk was a shaking blanket ball.

Henry padded over and walked up to Acacia. He reached over the little ‘bumper bar’ on the bed and put an arm around the pile of blankets.

“Acacia honey, why don’t you come downstairs? Even Uncle Dipper is there.”

A little head covered in an explosion of red curls popped out and shook back and forth violently before pulling back into the blankets.

“I’m not scared,” a little voice emitted from the cloth pile. “I’m okay here.”

Oh.

Oh that was what this was about.

“Mind if I lift you up and give you a hug?”

“No.”

Henry hefted his daughter up and over the bed and into his arms, blankets and all. He carried her downstairs and sat on the couch together.

“Acacia, it’s okay to be scared.”

“No, I’m not scared, I _can’t_ be scared.”

“Why not?”

Acacia’s head came back out again.  “I’m…I’m sposed to be the brave one! I’m the biggest!”

Henry gave Acacia a big squeeze.

“First off, there is no one saying you _have_ to be brave. And if anyone ever does, you just point them my way, okay?”

Acacia nodded.

“Secondly, being brave…honey, you can be brave and still be scared.”

“Really?”

“Yes really. Being brave is doing something even though you’re scared. And being brave doesn’t mean you can’t ask for help or admit you’re scared.”

Acacia sniffed, and Henry wiped a tear from her eye.

“And you never, ever, have to hide your fear from me. Ready to come to bed? Or do you want to watch the storm?”

Acacia snorted some snot back in.

“I…I wanna watch.”

Henry smiled. “Okay honey.”

(in the morning, Stan walked into the living room to find Acacia drooling on top of Henry on the couch.

He took a picture. For Mabel).

**Two**

Stan: Library

There were things in the Gravity Falls library that Henry couldn’t believe that they had.

On the outside, it was….

Well, it looked like a complete dump. Mainly because it was. Cinderblock construction from the sixties, leaky roof, windows that let raccoons and gnomes in, and a smell of mold, leftover macaroni and cheese, and more mold.

But there were first person accounts of the supernatural extending back to even before the town’s founding, journals of explorers into the vast forests surrounding Gravity Falls and what they found there, one or two grimoires that people had donated over the years because the Library seemed like a good place to put them, a book in what looked to Henry to be written in 13th century Old German….

Things, in short, that were not at the Stanley Pines Memorial Library of the Supernatural.

Things that a certain Stan Pines wanted for the Stanley Pines Memorial Library of the Supernatural.

Things that a certain Stan Pines would get caught trying to get because he got stuck in the one bum window that had also trapped three raccoons and an opossum before.

Henry stood in the library at 3:45am, having gotten a call from the police, and looked at his…great-uncle-in-law? (to be honest he was more like a father-in-law)

Any way, looked at Stan dangling from the window and with a look on his face that would be more at home on a twelve year old rather than a man in his early sixties.

“Stan, what the fuck?”

“Henry, no one else is using them here and you _know_ I can take better care of them at home!”

Henry put his face in his hands.

“Stan, for the love of Christ, have you never heard of ‘interlibrary loans’?”

The look on Stan’s face said not only that he had not, but he wouldn’t understand the concept any way because it ultimately involved returning the thing and Stan would much rather keep the thing, thank you very much.

Henry sighed, and went over to help Stan out the window.

Third time this month.

**Three**

Henry was making dinner when he heard a sound from under the sink where he was doing dishes.

He knelt down as best he could (even sitting on the floor his head was still even with the counter), and opened the cabinet drawer.

There was Willow, still in her school clothes, a small blue fire flicking out of her fingers.

She was watching the flames off of her fingers and had tears down her face.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” Henry asked, wiping his hands on his apron.

“Nothing.”

Henry smiled a bit. “It must be something if you’re having Sink Time.”

Willow huffed out a breath. “I don’t need help Daddy.”

Henry nodded. “Okay sweetie, I’ll leave you alone.” He closed the cabinet door, stood up, and went back to doing dishes.

A minute later he felt the slight bop of the cabinet opening against his leg, and heard a voice coming out.

“Mrs. Martin doesn’t like Mommy.”

“Oh?” Henry asked, trying to keep his voice casual.

“I…I saw her colors when Mommy picked us up today and they were…they were _bad_ and _angry_ and….and…”

He heard sniffling, grabbed a cookie from the jar next to the sink, and went back down on the floor, opening the cabinet again.

Willow launched herself out and on to his lap. She wasn’t one for loud sobbing, but she wept into his shirt.

“Daddy, I don’t want to see colors any more. I don’t like all the bad colors I see.”

Henry froze. Oh god. How the fuck could he respond to that? “Sorry, your Uncle freaked out saving your life?”

There was nothing he or Dipper could do to keep his daughter from sobbing at the ugliness of the world around her.

She was only six.

Henry gathered Willow into his arms and let her cry herself out.

**Four**

Dipper: Backpack

Once or twice a month, on accident or at a summoning (though Henry suspected sometimes it was “accident” rather than actual accident) Dipper would fall under the influence of Yggdrasil or as they called it at the Shack, dipnip.  
  
Usually, this resulted in Dipper latching on to someone, purring, and refusing to let them go.  
  
Over the years Henry had come up with a coping mechanism.  
  
Like today, for example, when he had taken the day off of work to clean the gutters before Mabel came home from visiting the girls in Eugene.  
  
Henry had sat on the couch for all of two seconds to put his shoes on before Dipper blipped into existence next to him, pupils blown, tip of his tongue out, and rumbling hard enough to make the couch shake.  
  
Henry waited until Dipper had settled himself in on his lap, then began to wiggle and move his brother around.  
  
Five minutes later Henry got off the couch triumphant, having successfully maneuvered Dipper into clinging on to his back like a backpack.  
  
A rumbly backpack that had claws pricked on his scalp and drooled gold spit on his shirt but it was still better than getting stuck on the couch until Dipper snapped out of it.  
  
Chuckling slightly to himself, Henry stepped out of the house and went to the workshed.

**Five**

Mabel: Honor

If there was one thing that Henry Pines had learned early on in his relationship with Mabel it was that Mabel was more than capable of kicking butt and standing up for herself on her own.

Actually, Henry was damn sure that Mabel could kick more ass than he ever could. Sure he had over a foot on her, but Mabel had been hunting demons and getting into supernatural shenanigans for over twenty years and boxed every day, and also still had enough energy to go on spontaneous jogs in the forest that lasted for an hour or two regularly.

But it was one thing to know that your wife could kick ass…

And another thing to turn around the corner after leaving the con suite on the second day of the 15th Annual Conference for Paranormal Researchers and Professionals and find that a heckler from Mabel’s keynote speech (“Think Before Reacting: Better Situational Awareness While ‘Hunting’”) currently had his wife in a corner.

Correction, his wife in a corner, a hand around her throat, and since like Henry he was tall, Mabel’s arms and legs couldn’t quite reach to kick, to punch, to defend.

The man was almost Henry’s height, and was probably twice his weight, all muscle. He smelt like alcohol, even from twenty feet away. He was swaying slightly but still had a tight enough hold on his wife’s throat (easy Henry, patience) that she was having a hard time breathing.

As Henry got closer (and Mabel quickly saw him but made sure to not let her gaze linger, to give away his presence), the man slurred at Mabel, “What are you, some kind of preter-fucker? Too…too good for a _real_ man?”

Henry didn’t feel red or shaky with anger.

He just felt cold. Very cold.

Calmly, Henry picked up a metal folding chair that was in the foyer outside one of the smaller panel rooms. It was folded up from disuse which was great for Henry.

Great because it let him bring it down on the waste of space that dared, that _dared_ to touch Mabel that much quicker.

Henry hit the man over the head hard enough to dent the chair.

The intoxicated man turned, fists up, ready to kill, but that gave Mabel enough time to gather her breath and-

“YOU’RE GOING DOWN SUCKER!” she yelled at the top of her lungs, and launched herself at him, where she proceeded to beat her attacker into not quite a bloody pulp but enough to make con security freak out when they arrived.

(“My hero,” Mabel beamed at him in the con suite cum makeshift holding cell until the police arrived. She gave him a kiss on the cheek and Henry blushed day glo read. It wasn’t the first convention they were probably going to get banned from, but Henry wouldn’t have it any other way.)

 **Six**  
  
Hank: Music

_sqreaaaaaaaaaaaUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWK._

Hank lifted his bow from the body of his violin and gave a gap toothed beam at Henry.

“What do you think Daddy?”

Henry felt like his ears were about to bleed, and would have had no idea that that was supposed to be “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” if it weren’t for Hank telling him beforehand.

But _of course_ he wasn’t going to tell Hank that.

Oh god, what to say, how to strike that balance between honesty and encouragement, between blunt and overpraising. It was awful and Hank needed a lot more work but god was he proud of his son for learning the violin, so very proud…

“I think you still need some practice,” Henry finally said, watching Hank’s face carefully. “But I think you tried hard and did a great job.”

“Really?”

“Yes really! Hank, when I was your age, your grandmother tried to teach me how to play the piano. I didn’t even last ten minutes.”

“ _Wow_.”

Hank was practically glowing and Henry didn’t even say that much? He meant it, he truly did, but sometimes the effect his words had on his children frightened him because what if he messed up?

This was usually when Henry’s inner Mabel came in and smacked him on the head for being goofy.

That’s what inner Mabel was doing now, so Henry decided to listen to her.

“All that playing, I bet you’re hungry. Want some ice cream?”

Hank beamed and after carefully putting his violin down on the kitchen table where Henry had been working, threw himself at Henry and gave him a big hug.

Being a dad was hard work, Henry thought as he scooped two small bowls of strawberry ice cream, but it was completely worth it.


	62. Chapter 62

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from this tumblr prompt
> 
> "could you show us how it went when Acacia brought her first girlfriend home/'came out' (if she did) to her family? I love me some Pines family shenanigans. "

One day, when the children were at kindergarten, Stan was occupied in the Library, Henry was at work and Dipper was doing only god knew what, Mabel Pines got a small chest out from under her bed.

She unlocked it using the key that she always hid in the freezer (in the back, obviously), and opened the small wooden box up.

Inside was a book, bound in rainbow striped leather.

Mabel lovingly stroked it for a second, before bringing it out of the box.

She walked over to the desk that she and Henry had in their bedroom, and opened the book up, whipping out her sky blue glitter pen.

She put on a pair of heart shaped glasses.

Mabel knew that the kids certainly wouldn’t be doing anything relationship wise as they were still in kindergarten….but it wasn’t too early to start entering some good guesses in her Big Book of Matchmaking!

Mabel began doodling on each of the pages she had made for the kids when they were born.

Hmmmm….now Acacia, she saw as probably dating around quite a bit, before settling down in college or even her thirties. Hank was most likely to marry the first person he went out with, and Willow….Mabel had a feeling that Willow wouldn’t have a romantic partner as an adult.

She went ahead and drew people on Willow’s page anyway, so Willow’s page wouldn’t feel lonely next to Hank and Acacia’s (they were friends and kids of Willow’s, Mabel decided.)

Mabel looked down on her handiwork.

“And they say Mabel Pines never learns!” she crowed triumphantly to herself, though what that thing was or who ‘they’ were was really rather vague.

(Later, when her children were grown, and Mabel looked back on their pages and her predictions…well, she got one out of three right anyway).

—-

Acacia Pines had known Reina Castañeda ever since eighth grade, when Reina and her family moved to Gravity Falls, and Reina was put in Acacia’s English and Paranormal Defense classes.

Acacia never forgot the first time that she saw Reina. Reina was….well, not quite gorgeous because she was still in middle school and no one,  _no one_ , looks their best in middle school.

But she had thick black hair that cascaded down to the small of her back, and was wearing  _the cutest dress ever_  and had gorgeous deep brown eyes and  _the prettiest smile ever oh my god._

_She even had a hint of boobs, which Acacia was discovering day by day she liked a whole lot._

Acacia on the other hand, was wearing a three sizes too big hoodie that said “BEAVER NATION!” (a hand-me down from her dad), sweatpants because she forgot to do laundry that weekend, and had about seven zits on her face because she was about to start her period.

This was not an auspicious start.

The only empty desk in the whole classroom was next to her so of course  _the most gorgeous girl ever oh my god_  sat next to Acacia.

When the teacher began to talk again, Reina turned to Acacia and smiled.

“Hi. I’m Reina.”

Acacia burped, and then to add to the overall feeling of “I want to fucking die right now” that was coursing through her, the entire classroom paused and looked at her.

Any other day, Acacia would rock it, would say something along the lines of “My bad,” or “Be glad there weren’t chunks!”

But in front of a cute girl who was trying her best not to laugh well.

Acacia turned as red as her hair and buried her head in her arms.

—-

For the longest time, Acacia adamantly insisted that she and Reina were just friends.

Three-fourths of the time, Acacia even believed it.

Absolutely no one else believed her, least of all her mother. Mercifully however, Mom never tried to push the two of them together, but welcomed Reina into the Shack as another friend of Acacia’s, teasing and feeding her as much as she did for any of the other friends of the kids who came by.

(Mabel was still incorrigible, and had in fact made a page for Acacia and Reina in her matchmaking book. But with age comes wisdom…okay, a little bit of wisdom, not a whole lot, and Mabel knew the best course of action here was sympathy and an ear.)

Friends was safer, Acacia decided, watching Reina swim with their friends and her siblings in the pool one summer.

Friends meant never asking That Question and having Reina say no and then Never Talking To Her Again.

Friends meant never touching, never holding, never kissing the way Acacia longed to.

But this was safer, this was better, and if Acacia kept telling herself that, one day she would believe it.

—-

“Sometimes,” Uncle Dipper confided in her one day in tenth grade as they were getting ice cream, “it’s better to just tell them.”

Acacia down at Uncle Dipper (she was now taller than both her mother and uncle, which cracked Mom and Grunkle Stan up to no end.)

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Acacia said as haughtily as she could manage.

“Sure kid, act like I haven’t known you since you were a spark in your mom’s stomach, it’s cool.”

Acacia boffed Dipper on the arm. “Uncle Dipperrrrrrr!”

She smiled though, and ate some of her Dippin Dots (they went to the place in the mall that gave Uncle Dipper free ice cream for some reason all the time).

She looked down at her cup, and finally said, “I’m scared.”

Dipper kept eating his Pickle Juice and Cherry Fudge ice cream. “I know.”

Acacia shot Dipper a dirty look and he held his hands up, cup in one hand and spoon in the other. “Okay, okay, okay!”

He sighed and put the cup of ice cream down on the bench between them.

“When I told Wendy-“

“COUSIN WENDY?!”

“That-that’s not the point!” Dipper exclaimed, blushing until even his ears were red.

He went on. “Look, it hurt and it sucked but we still stayed friends. Sometimes it’s better to let the truth out in the air than to fester in you.”

“What if she doesn’t like me anymore?”

Dipper smiled, and put an arm around his nibling.

“Acacia, do you really think she’d do that?”

——-

Fifteen and walking to get a root beer float from Greasy’s with Reina and-

“Do you want to go out? With me?”

Acacia froze in her tracks. She turned slowly to look at Reina and her mouth was wide open and a fly flew in and then there was a lot of coughing.

Reina’s brow furrowed. “I mean, if you don’t that’s fine, and I am really okay with staying just friends, and we can never talk about this again, and I mentioned that I’m okay with staying friends right? That’s like point three on my list, oh god I wasn’t supposed to mention a list, shit-“

Acacia gaped at her. But…But Reina was the cool one!

“No I’m not,  _you’re_ the cool one!” Reina replied, and Acacia realized that she said that out loud.

The two girls looked at each other for a minute, equally red and awkward.

Then they leaned in and kissed each other.

It was the first kiss for both of them, so Acacia’s braces scraped Reina’s mouth, and when Reina leaned in and up to reach Acacia’s mouth she ended up toppling both of them over, but both agreed looking back on it later that they wouldn’t have changed it for the world.


	63. Chapter 63

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr ask
> 
> "What sort of hobbies did Hank have when he was a kid? Being called "the normal one" was always kind of a touchy spot for him, what sort of things did he do to separate himself from that impression? What did Hank/Uncle Dipper bonding time mean? What did Hank/Willow bonding time look like? Of all his family members, who did he like to spend time with the most? Who did he date before he met vivi? What sort of shenanigans did acacia draw him into? Did he go through a phase where he was more callous? "

Hobbies

Hank always loved puzzles.

Sometimes he had help… Though Uncle Dipper really couldn’t because he knew where every piece was and could solve it in two minutes and that wasn’t fun. Acacia lost patience too quickly, and Willow was good for ten or twenty minutes before she Saw something that caught her attention and then she stared off into space.

His best helpers were usually Mom or Dad, even though Mom usually had the tendency to try and shoehorn pieces in where they really didn’t go.

At the end of the day though, there was nothing like just sitting in the quiet (or as quiet as it got at the Shack) for a few hours, and making order out of disorder, stability out of chaos.

(When Hank and Vivienne had children of their own, one of his favorite things to do with all four of his kids was to sit down with a 10000 piece puzzle across the living room floor and spend a rainy afternoon trying to solve it)

————————-

The Normal One

Hank was six when he heard himself described as “the normal one” for the first time.

Even at six Hank realized he probably wasn’t supposed to hear Ms. Tilly talking to two of the other teachers, but on the other hand they were talking in front of him like he wasn’t there so.

“Which one was Hank again?” Mr. Stepanov asked.

“Oh you know, he’s the normal one,” Ms. Tilly laughingly responded.

“What do you mean?” Mrs. Redhook the gym teacher said.

“Oh, you know, Acacia gets in to so much trouble that girl, and Willow…Willow is…herself but Hank is nice and normal. No trouble that one; he’s a nice rest after dealing with his sisters….”

The conversation moved on to something else, and Hank went to go play on the swings, hoping to get rid of that sick feeling in his stomach the words he heard had brought with them.

Hank tried over the years to act as odd as possible, so people would stop calling him ‘the normal one.”

Stop treating his Mom and Willow and Acacia as somehow wrong just because they were different and bright and wonderful, and he was somehow better than them just because he was calm, and turned in his work on time.

So Hank played hide and seek by himself, and talked at the air (different from when he was talking to Uncle Dipper) and went on and on about how he really liked clowns, and did his best Willow impression and stared off into the air at times (Willow smacked him on the shoulder the first time she saw him do it and he stopped soon after that.)

But none of it seemed to work; mainly because Hank couldn’t change who he was (and honestly, no one in his family would have ever wanted that). He was still Hank who baked cookies for the whole class, who held the door open for everyone, who ran track, who liked computers.

Maybe it didn’t bother his sisters and his mom but it bothered Hank. And if he had to be “the normal one” then damn if he wouldn’t at least make sure that no one ever made fun of his family in front of him.

—————-

Hank and Dipper

Some of Hank’s most treasured memories involved the violin, and Uncle Dipper.

He remembered Uncle Dipper taking Hank’s hands in his larger ones, to show him how to hold the violin, to draw the bow across the strings.

Uncle Dipper showing him how to read music, the hats on the lines and the little dot that meant three notes. Later when it came to try on the violin, Uncle Dipper had made the strings light up with what note was where on the instrument.

There was the first time he played Uncle Dipper a song he wrote himself. Sure it was twelve measures long and sounded like a song that Hank had heard his Mom sing a lot, but Uncle Dipper had teared up, and grabbed Hank up into his arms when he was done playing,

“I loved it Hank,” Uncle Dipper exclaimed and Hank had never felt so proud.

Countless jam sessions with his Uncle in high school, at Oregon State and busking with Dipper to make a few extra dollars, playing for Myrtle and Linden when they had trouble falling asleep.

(Decades later, as Hank’s coffin was lowered into the ground, Dipper played the first song his nephew ever wrote.)

———-

Hank and Will

Bombarded as she was every day with the emotions of everyone around her, the various sprites and sights most people’s eyes slid over even in this post-Transcendence world, and homework, Willow usually spent part of her day trying to get some quiet time in.

Sometimes Hank joined her, because he could use some quiet as well and he had run out of puzzles to do.

They played endless rounds of chess, of checkers and Monopoly, rummy and crazy 8s, and several games they made up themselves.

No words were needed between the two of them, no sound necessary.

Just Hank and his sister, cherishing the quiet, and time spent with each other.

———

Dating

Once Mabel thought that it would be Acacia who dated around in high school, and Hank the one who would marry a high school partner.

She was pretty spectacularly wrong.

There was Qamra, who was the first person that Hank ever went out with, who smelled like jasmine and ink, and drew flowers on all her homework assignments.

Edward with the surprisingly talented hands, and perpetually crooked glasses.

Margarita who could out-program him any day of the week and had a laugh that was kind of like a horse but Hank still loved hearing it, hearing her voice. 

Harper who was on the track and field team too. She couldn’t out run him but she was a demon on the hurdles, which Hank had never managed to get the hang of.

Hiroto who barely ever spoke, but made up for it with the leaves of poetry he pressed in books, in hands, across the cafeteria table.

Lillian with hair down to her back that his mom once spent three hours playing with, much to his embarrassment and her bemusement.

Maia who practically lived in the Chemistry classroom, and always had an acrid, smoky smell coming off her in waves.

And there were more as well. Sometimes it lasted a month, sometimes three or four, but never longer than that.

But the breakups were always amicable, and Hank stayed friends with all of his former partners, and could be counted on to know what half of his and his sister’s graduating class was up to after high school thanks to his network of friends and former flames.

(Sometimes Hank worried that there was something wrong with him, the way that after a few months he ended up feeling more friendship than romance towards his boyfriends and girlfriends, that there was something in him that was broken and could never feel love. Which was ridiculous, as his mother and sisters told him, but he couldn’t help the way that he felt.)

Then in his world history survey course freshman year at Oregon State he met Vivienne Chen.)


	64. Chapter 64

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> Something about Henry's childhood/teen years? Surely he must have at least one good story from back then.

As a child, Henry was never sure how someone as wonderful as Mother Corduroy had had someone as awful as his father.

(As an adult, and knowing what he did, he had a more nuanced view of his grandmother, but that was neither here nor there.)

Henry loved spending time with Mother Corduroy. Until she passed when he was eleven, almost every weekend was spent at her house the next town over in Gates.

When they were in season, Henry and Mother Corduroy would gather crabapples in the woods by her house, and go home and make the best pies.

Seriously. They were the best, and even though he had the recipe as an adult and made it a hundred thousand times, never were his pies as good as his grandmother’s.

They would stay up late watching odd shows like Mr. Bean and Sherlock on the PBS station out of Portland, and Henry would wake up the next morning to the sound of his grandmother’s snores in the bed next to him.

Getting Mother Corduroy her Virginia Slims out of the freezer, and the smell of acrid smoke that always seemed to come from her.

Mother Corduroy, in their walks in the forest, pointing out various plants to him, describing what each one would do, what was poison, what was helpful, and what really didn’t do anything at all but sure looked pretty.

Photo albums, showing Henry the grandfather that died long before he was a thought in his father’s eye, and the seven husbands between now and then that never filled the void that Hawk Corduroy left in Carolina Marie’s heart.

Sleeping under blankets crocheted just for him, the favorite grandchild, the apple of Mother Corduroy’s eye.

Playing with anywhere from five to twenty cousins under the watchful eye of his grandmother.

Quietly reading, and feeling safe doing so because Mother Corduroy had never yelled at him for picking up a book, had always encouraged Henry to read, and read as much as he could.

Mother Courduroy giving the best hugs. The best.

Even after she passed, and Henry was left for seven years on his own before he was able to get the fuck out of his house, the memories of his grandmother were enough to sustain him until he left


	65. Chapter 65

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from the prompt 
> 
> "Prompt: dipper getting summoned to play demon exterminator of sorts to a bunch of naiads living in someone's backyard pool"

This…this was a first.

Internally, Dipper was completely caught off guard.

Luckily, he had had at this point experience in not showing that, which was good because if this had even been fifteen or ten or even five years earlier he would have been gaping at his summoners like a dead fish.

Externally, Dipper boomed,”Y̧̦̭͖̭͍OU̳̲͕̦̤ ͙̗W̷̜̰̠̹I͈͉̖̠̮̥͍SH̰̭̯̻͖̰ ̛F̨͖̭͓̩͕͓̬O̙̰̗̹̟̞̖R̙͓̟͎̹ ͖̬͕̹̮̬̤M̧E̟̖̮͉ ̵T͍͢O̖̫̣͢ ̸̯R͖̱I҉̼̥̰̪ͅD ̧̣̘͍̬̯̱Y͇̳̣͎̜͞Ọ̠̘͖̜̙̯UR̠̭̦͎͕͎ͅ ͏̠̱̜̼͖͓S̛͔͇͚̗W̬̬I̴͈͓M̛͇͚̳͍M̤̻I͇NG͍͍ ̟̲͖̦̯P̳̜̘O̲͎͕͕O͓͘L̪̳̫̹͔͟ͅ ̖̪̭͔O̼̮̹̯̹F-̲̪̟̥͎”

The blond woman who had summoned him sniffed.

“ _Naiads…_  really, they are the most  _terrible_  pests.”

“A͎̤͚n͇̪̩ͅd̞̫̲͓̘ ̱͇̻͓̀ͅy̙̦̬ͅo̩͈̣̜̥̝̳͢u͎̦̖ ̤̪͙͜w̹͕͉͝il̶̗̬̙͎l̫̻ͅ ̦̖̜̹̮̱o̥̲̫̜͚̞f̭̫͕͈͖fe̢̤r͟ ̰̼̻͔͟m͍̼͕̲e  ̘͖ì͎͙ṉ̸̲͍̬̩̯ tur͕̩̭̰̞̯ͅń̫̫?̳͉͔͈ͅ”

“Their flesh-I’d offer you their souls but I don’t think they  _have_  them, godless creatures they are.”

His inner eye looked out into the back yard, where three scared children, lost and scared and unsure how they had ended up where they were, knowing only that they were safe…for  _now._

Dipper had learned long ago not to point out other people’s hypocrisy; especially if it served his purposes.

"I͟ ̀͝wil̕l͠͞ ͜de̸̕͘ą̀l̵͘ ̶͘ẁ̶͞í̛t̢̕h͏ ͡͞t̡͞h̶͝e ͡v̴̕er̵̷̡m̢i̵n͟,͞͠"̴̧ Dipper said, bowing, and if it was a mocking bow, the woman certainly didn’t notice.

“See to it,” she said before tottering in.

He wasn’t talking about the kids in the pool.

Dipper shrank down to a younger size. He would deal with her later. For now he had a call to make to his nephew, and three scared girls to deal with. He walked over to the pool and his heart cringed as they swam to the bottom of the pool, as far away from him as possible.

“Hey there. I’m Dipper, and I’m here to help.”


	66. Chapter 66

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from this tumblr prompt
> 
> "Henry and Mabel dress as the traditional Watson and Holmes for Halloween!"

**Four Halloweens Mabel and Henry (andothers!) Celebrated**  
  
1\. 22  
  
Henry hadn’t done anything for Halloween since he was ten and his father declared that he was far too old for “that trick or treating shit, time to  _grow up_ boy-“  
  
Yes. Well.  
  
Point being it had been over a decade since he had dressed up in a costume of any kind and yet here he was, playing the Watson to Mabel’s Holmes.  
  
He winced slightly as Mabel over-enthusiastically slapped a fake bushy mustache on his face.  
  
“You know Mabes,” he said from his seat on the edge of the tub (the best way for Mabel to easily reach his hair and face for makeup). “If I had had a little more warning I probably could have grown a mustache out.”  
  
“Yeah, but this way is more fun!” Mabel gleefully exclaimed, getting ready to paste some mutton chops on his face as well.  
  
“Um, are we going to do something with my hair too?”  
  
“What do you mean Hen?”  
  
“Well, the fake hair you’re putting on is brown and I’m a redhead.”  
  
Mabel smiled, and produced seemingly out of nowhere a pork pie hat.   
  
“I was just going to stuff it all under here!”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
She whipped out a massive pillow. “I’m also going to need to stuff this under your shirt too.”  
  
“Won’t it fall out?”  
  
Mabel wordlessly held up a rainbow sequined belt.  
  
“Oh.”  
  
(It was a ton of fuss, and Mabel had accidentally used Crazy Glue and they needed to summon Dipper to get it off his face.  
  
But they won first place at the costume contest and Mabel’s bubble pipe was a hit and he had never seen his girlfriend so in her element.  
  
Henry looked at the massive smile on her face and decided for her he would dress up anytime and anywhere.)  
  
2\. 28  
  
For the kids’ first Halloween, Henry was convinced that Mabel was going to dress them up as three peas in a pod, because that surely was the perfect triplet costume, right?  
  
“We’re going to be Power Rangers!” Mabel exclaimed one night at the dinner table.  
  
“We?” Stan asked spooning some mushed carrots into Willow’s mouth.  
  
“Wait, we?” Dipper seconded, attempting to clean up Acacia a bit and failing miserably.  
  
Henry raised an eyebrow as he was busy making airplane noises to try and get Hank to open his mouth.  
  
“Don’t worry Grunkle Stan, I know you got your own thing going on here. But the six of us are going out. GO GO POWER RANGERS!”  
  
Hank laughed at the funny noises his mother was making, and Henry took the opportunity to smoosh peas into his son’s mouth.  
  
Dipper’s brow furrowed. “Mabes, Halloween is kind of a busy night for me-what can you offer me to keep me on this plane and with you guys?”  
  
“Halloween candy-bags before hand and a fourth of whatever we get.”  
  
“A third.”  
  
“I get to goody pick before you go through out loot DippinDots.”  
  
“D̡̠̜̟̜̥̠͞͠Ę̠͖̰̦̦̮̻Ạ̠̣̬̱̜-um, sounds good. We can figure it out more the night of.”  
  
Hank spat the mouthful of peas Henry had gotten him to eat back onto Henry. Luckily, he was wearing his Dinner Shirt (an old, ratty Mystery Shack souvenir shirt) so he wasn’t even phased, just put more peas on the spoon and tried again.  
  
Henry’s wife went on. “And we can each have one of the babies on us since there’s three of them and three of us-“  
  
Mabel rubbed her hands together and actually cackled.  
  
“This is the bestest idea I’ve ever had.”  
  
(Henry had to admit, even though he had never seen the show, the end result of the costumes Mabel had made for all of them was pretty damn cute.  
  
Though both he and Dipper drew the line at thirty second little routine Mabel wanted them to do every time they went to a door.)  
  
3\. 44  
  
Henry stared at Mabel.  
  
“What?”  
  
“You can dress up as the Woodsman this year and I will be Mizar!”  
  
“But…I….”  
  
“Henry, it will be HILARIOUS, trust me.”  
  
“Um, Mabel?”  
  
“Don’t worry, you don’t have to do the whole-” Mabel wiggled her hands in front of her eyes and hair. “-just the antlers and axe; we can make a deal with Dipdop.”  
  
“Er, uh….”  
  
“Also when I say ‘Mizar and Woodsman’ I mean the version from “The Forest’s Son and the Demon’s Lover.” You know, the new one from the author of “Twin Souls”?”  
  
Henry started to choke on his coffee.  
  
(Everyone at the party in Bend who wasn’t in the know thought Henry did an AMAZING job on his antlers, so he supposed it wasn’t ALL mortifying.)  
  
4\. 53  
  
“I can’t believe I’m sick.”  
  
Henry nodded sympathetically, and handed Mabel the box of tissues as he saw her face screw up into another sneeze.  
  
In his wheelchair next to the couch Stan barked out a laugh.  
  
“Getting old sucks doesn’t it sweetie?”  
  
Mabel’s lip wobbled and Henry realized with a start that she was about to cry.  
  
“It’s….it’s going to be the first Halloween I’ve ever missed and-“  
  
A tear dropped from her face.  
  
“-and Acacia and Reina are bringing Nito and JoJo and Serge tomorrow and I have our costumes ready and-“  
  
Mabel started to cry, but then immediately launched into a sneezing and coughing fit, going through the entire box of tissues she had at hand.  
  
By the time Henry had returned with another box, Mabel had settled down, but was still visibly upset.  
  
Henry sat next to his wife….as best as he could anyway considering she was in a massive blanket ball on the couch. He reached out and began to stroke her hair, brown shot with grey and down from its usual headband.  
  
“We can stay in, watch really awful horror movies-?” Henry began tentatively, unsure if she would want to or not.  
  
Mabel tried to lean gently into Henry’s chest but over balanced and ended toppling blankets and all into his lap. She stayed there, and smooshed her face into Henry’s leg.  
  
“I guess,” she said dejectedly.  
  
“Mabel honey…”  
  
“I’m sorry Henry! It’s just….I’ve gone trick or treating my entire life, rain or shine, costume tear or slime demon, hot or cold, and I’m just….what if it’s a sign?”  
  
“Of what?”  
  
“That I need to grow up.”  
  
Henry wasn’t one for snorting but this time he did.

He grabbed his wife’s hand. “What’s this about growing up? I mean, you run your own business! And you’ve raised three kids, and you pay your bills and-“

“’You?’ You’re in here too Henry! It’s not just me!”

“I know but that’s not the point. The point is, you’re a wonderful mother and businesswoman and artist and a million other things. If you want to keep on trick or treating, you’re going to keep on trick or treating. You’ll be back out in force next year, better than ever.”

Mabel smiled and snurffed up a massive amount of snot.

“What are we going to do about this year though?” she asked, still squeezing his hand.

“Um, maybe we could…go out the day after?” Henry asked, even though it sounded crazy to his ears.

“YEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!”

“Ow, ow, ow, Mabel, sweetie, my ears,” Stan grumped.

(Mabel kept on trick or treating. She only stopped after Henry died.)

Coda: 22

“You don’t mind do you?”

Dipper, who had been summoned by Mabel (who in turn promptly left the two of them alone for “BONDING TIMES” while she went into town with Wendy), sat back into the porch rocker.

“No, not really.”

Henry boggled. “Really?”

“Really really.”

“Really really really?”

“ _Henry.”_

“Just kidding Dipper,” Henry said with a smile.

They sat in silence for a second, drinking Pitt and watching Gompers go at the tire on Stan’s car.

“You’re…you’re her boyfriend. And you’re important to Mabel,” Dipper finally said. “I’m not going to get in the way of you two doing things. It’s okay, I promise.”

Henry smiled, and clinked his soda can against Dipper’s.

“You’re a good man, and a good brother. Thank you Dipper.”

Dipper blushed.

Silence, and then Dipper spoke again. “Besides, we agreed we’d still do twin costumes on Summerween.”

“Summerween?”

“Oh Henry, just you wait and see.”


	67. Chapter 67

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from the prompt " Nightmares"

They were going to eat her toes.  
  
Acacia knew, distantly, barely, that she was dreaming. And even here she was mad at herself for being so scared of…of…..these really weird red squishy pillows with dentures like Grunkle Stan had.  
  
But they were going to eat her toes.  
  
And here she was, tied up like she was last week when some cultists had grabbed her and Hank to try and “free” Uncle Dipper-  
  
(She didn’t know what they meant by that, Uncle Dipper seemed pretty free to her. But when she had told Mom and Uncle Dipper what she had overheard, they had both gone as pale as a dinner plate. Maybe that was something they’d learn about next year in fourth grade?)  
  
-tied up like she was last week but Hank wasn’t here, warm against her back and just as ready to fight as she was.  
  
Most terrifying of all, the pillows didn’t seem to be able-or want-to listen to her.  
  
They just looked at her (though in a way that didn’t involve eyes because they didn’t have eyes and wasn’t  _that_ was silly!), drooling and growling.  
  
Occasionally one of them would nip at her toes, and it would  _hurt_  and it made Acacia even more scared because if a nibble hurt then what was going to happen when they started to eat her?  
  
She wasn’t stupid, she knew that what was going to happen.  
  
She was going to die here, alone in this weird dark room with a million symbols she had seen in various dark rooms, tunnels, and that thing under the Shack, eaten by….stupid,  _stupid_  pillows.  
  
She started to sob, the terror making her heart pound heavily in her chest. She was trying to be brave but she couldn’t, she  _couldn’t…._

One bold pillow hopped up to her feet and began to slowly but surely bite down and this was it, this was it-  
  
The pillow exploded in a flurry of feathers and blue flame. The other pillows quickly followed suit.  
  
Acacia’s head whipped around.  
  
“UNCLE DIPPER!” she cried with joy.  
  
He smiled, and came over to start to untie her.

“Uncle Dipper you came! You rescued me!”

He grinned.

“Sure did kid. I’ll always come when you need me. You will never get hurt as long as I’m around.”

He had finished untying her and she barreled into him, burying her face in his shirt and giving her uncle a fierce hug.

“Can you drop me off in that one dream I always have where there are rainbow koalas and the river is made of ranch dressing?”

“Sure!”

(years later, seeing his oldest niece in the hospital bed, one of her eyes completely gone and blood still on her face, Dipper’s words came back to mock him.)


	68. Chapter 68

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> "Triplets having a 'Summoning ed' day in class (where they teach kids why it's bad to summon demons and you should NEVER do it) and they spent the entirety of it correcting the teacher."

Acacia huffed.  
  
Then she crossed her arms and huffed again.  
  
Mabel didn’t even look up from her knitting. “The answer is still no Acacia.”  
  
Acacia scowled.  
  
“Points for the impressive huffing though.”  
  
She held up the sweater she was working on. “Do you think this dolphin should breathe fire or lasers?”  
  
Acacia said nothing, just continued to pout and look at the floor.  
  
“Lasers it is.” Mabel started knitting again. She continued to speak to her daughter.  
  
“Acacia, I’m not writing you three a note to get out of P.A.D.D.”  
  
“Mooooooom,” Acacia dragging out the word like only an eighth grader could. “Prevent All Demons Day is soooo stupid-“  
  
“It is,” Mabel agreed.  
  
“-and it doesn’t apply to us at  _all_  and I bet we know everything they’re going to show us any way and I  _know_  Hank and Willow totally agree with me.”  
  
Hank passed through the living room, with some papers Grunkle Stan had asked for in his hand.

"Acacia, don’t lie, Willow and I already told you we don’t care. Just do your other homework like the rest of us."  
  
Mabel’s eldest stomped her foot, upset at the effrontery and betrayal of her brother.  
  
“HANK!”  
  
He shrugged. “I’m not going to say no to a free study hall.” He left the room and it was a good thing Acacia wasn’t looking at her mother’s face because Mabel was trying her hardest not to laugh at the look of outrage on her eldest’s face.  
  
Mabel put her knitting down and motioned for Acacia to sit next to her on the couch, which her daughter begrudgingly did.  
  
“Acacia, it will actually really help me and your uncle when you all sit through P.A.D.D. tomorrow.”  
  
Acacia brightened. “Really?”  
  
“Yeah really! It’s been, like, forever since I was in school so we have no idea what they’re teaching about demons nowadays. You can be our-” Mabel framed her eyes with her fingers in circles. “- _eyes_   _on the inside_.”  
  
Acacia smiled. She still thought the whole thing was stupid but when her mom put it like that, well, she couldn’t resist.  
  
“Okay Mom.”  
  
“GO PINES!” Mabel yelled and produced a hand for high fiving which Acacia dutifully did. A thought occurred to her mother.  
  
“Besides, you may learn something even Uncle Dipper didn’t teach you-“  
  
Uncle Dipper at this point conveniently popped into this plane of reality.  
  
“I doubt it.”  
  
“Dipper Pines you are not helping,” her mother said, with a look on her face that said “I am going to chew you out later for this.”

(Dipper knew that look all too well).

————————————————-

P.A.D.D. wasn’t as bad as Acacia expected.

It was worse.

Being perhaps better versed in Oregon politics than most people her age thanks to Mom and Aunt Wendy, Acacia knew, abstractly, that P.A.D.D. came into being two or three years after the Transcendence thanks to a virulently Pro-Nat state government.

It was one thing to know that, and another thing to have Mr. Cornell from Bend come in and start spouting….spouting….

Well, it was complete and utter shit, and Acacia didn’t care if she would get in trouble for using that word, because it was bullshit.

Acacia knew, rationally, as well as Hank and Willow, that summoning demons was generally a bad idea. Hell, even their uncle, the literal demon, consistently told them that. So Acacia could have put up with a boring day of being told that “Demons are wack” and “Selling your soul is forever.”

It was another thing to hear Mr. Cornell yell for fifteen minutes about how all those who dealt in magic were destined to die horrible deaths and see the Ngyuen twins, who were both burgeoning mages, flush darkly and try and hide their faces.

It was another thing for Mr. Cornell to rant about how werewolves were mindless animals not fit to interact with ‘decent society’ and see Carina curl into herself.

Mr. Cornell and “Vampires ought to be staked as soon as they are found, for the good of us all,” and seeing Mrs. Tremont the math teacher move away from the mirror in the auditorium.

Mr. Cornell and “banshees are dirty, filthy liars,” and a row in front of her Brandon Sarginger visibly paling and starting to shake.

By the time he had started into a fifteen minute rant that was a thinly veiled tirade against the entire town, Acacia had had enough.

She looked at either side of her, to Hank and Willow, who were totally sitting next to her because triplets, and not to make sure she didn’t start shit.

She took Willow and Hank’s hands in hers and squeezed. In her peripheral vision they nodded and both of them squeezed back.

Good. They were on board.

Now to wait for an opportune moment.

It came five minutes later, when Mr. Cornell had finally finished insulting three-fourths of the school, and by extension the entire town, and produced a piece of chalk.

“Now children,” he said in his super nasally voice in the most condescending tone possible (he was really not helping his case here). “I’m going to bring to the stage  _very briefly_  a small demon that we in the OBOSES:DC captured last week, to show you how  _dangerous_  demons truly are.”

That was the stupidest thing Acacia had ever heard and it suited her needs perfectly.

She nodded back at Hank and Willow. Plan “Fuck This Dude” was a go.

On stage, Mr. Cornell began to take out of a gym bag candles so heavily scented that the triplets could smell them even in the back.

“This particular demon loves the smell of ‘clean cotton’ so we will use-“

“OOO OOO OO MISTER, MISTER CORNELL!” Willow waved her hand for extra emphasis.

“Yes, er, um….”

“WILLOW! Heh, Willow. I thought demons didn’t like scented candles? They usually prefer non-scented ones, and hand molded beeswax is the best and-“

Mr. Cornell’s grin fixed into a rictus and he managed to get out “Now now, I know you love  _Twin Souls_ ” (and in her lap, unseen to the stage, Willow’s hand burst out into flame), “-but that is simply a bunch of hogwash.”

Willow gave him an equally fake grin, and lowered her hand. As Mr. Cornell continued to blather, she started to mentally call out to her uncle, trying to get his attention the way he showed her a few years ago.

Mr. Cornell produced from the same bag a large thing of red chalk. “Now, _obviously_  I won’t be using blood, but red chalk, or red colored anything will do in a pinch and-“

“Sir? Oh? Excuse me sir?”

“Yes, er, oh, you’re next to that-“

“Hank, Hank Pines sir, eight grade. My uncle has always said that white chalk is fine, in fact is better than red chalk and-“

“Hank, I  _highly_  doubt that your Uncle is a trained demonologist and has spent fifteen years fighting the scum-“(and how did he not notice almost the entire auditorium cringing at that?) “-of the supernatural world. I  _know_  what I’m doing.”

Hank lowered his hand, and reached across Acacia’s lap to latch on to Willow’s hand, the better to amplify her call for their uncle.

(they had learned that trick three years ago when the two of them were lost in the forest and Willow was having a hard time breathing and they couldn’t find her inhaler and-)

Mr. Cornell had finished drawing the circle (freehand, and lopsided, and not even fully connected). He had lit fifteen candles (safe bet was usually at least eight, one for each cardinal point and those in between, unless the demon wanted something more or less) and the auditorium reeked of ‘cotton.’ He had begun to chant in grammatically incorrect Latin when Acacia shot up her hand.

“OOOOOOOO MR CORNELL MR CORNELL HEY HEY-“

Mr. Cornell cut off mid-chant ( _big_  mistake) and glared at Acacia.

“ _What is it little girl_?” he hissed with undisguised contempt.

“Who are you summoning? I’d like, really like to know, you know?”

He sighed heavily. “Efniah, a very minor Legion class demon.”

Acacia grinned. It was a wicked, shark like grin that had no business being on the face of one so young.

“Think again.”

Mr. Cornell turned back to his circle.

Alcor the Dreambender, the Twin Star, Feaster of Souls, Killer of Planets, Lord of the Ebon Realms, and a hundred other nicknames besides, floated gently there.

(And if Mr. Cornell was in the proper frame of mind, he would have wondered why no one else was screaming and gibbering in fear like he was at the moment.)

“H̨̤̭̗͕EL͇̩̣͈̟̯ͅL̫͈̕O ̻̪͈̜͔E̢D͉̪̬̖̹͍̭̀W͍̫̳̲̲͉̪A͏̯̳̗̲R̦̳D̺!͇̟̮͚̼̰͇”

“How….how…how do you know my name?!”

Alcor grinned and in his mouth he could see two rows of teeth. “͖O̟̭͝h̙͙͙̣͖ ̱I͕͇͖͇ kn̝͕o̟̲̥w͖̟ ͕͟l̤̹̬̜̪͇͢o͘t̟̣̬̼̯̗̠̀s̼ͅ ̵͕̻̲̥̤o̲̬̗f͓͍̰ ̝͕͙͎̭̳̙ṱ͎ẖ̺i̞͘n̩̘̩̜̯͡ģ͚̰͇̼͉͍̫s̰̩͜. ̟̻̯ _L̗͉oo̷͓͇͓̠̤̰ơ̟͖̩̟̘̤̟o̘̮̣̮̭ͅo̧t̩̪̫͚͓̳s̪ ̵̩̰̣ͅo̺̻f̠̤ ̫͖͢t̛h̳̖̩̩̠̩i̫̣͕̫i̵i͞n̷͖͎̙ͅg̪͚͍͎͖ͅs̲s͈̖̰̟̼̤ͅs͙̠͔͙͝ͅ.̗̖͓̞̪̟̥”_

The demon took off his gloves, and examined his nails.

“L̴ike ͝how ̧yo̷u hate ͘your ̴jo͠b̨,͡ ͠a͜nd y̵o͏u͟ ͟ha̶té t͘his to͢wn̵, and yo̶ú hate ́every͢one ̴in̨ ͢h̢erè-“

“You…you lie!”

Alcor shook his head sadly. “Ts͏k ̷tsḱ tsk. Lyin̢g ̢in͝ ̸f́rơńt of çhi͞l͟dren? S͘hame̷.͠ ͜A͘n̨y ͜ẃay͜….”

He snapped and suddenly in the circle with him appeared a cloud of flies.

“Ì’̨ve҉ ̴been t͞al̛ki͞n҉g͘ to͢ E͡fn̵iah a͘nd bo͢ooy̛ ̕is͘ ́zie ͜n̕ot҉ ͞ha̕pp̴y with̵ ̡yo̕u. ̨W͢àn͝ts̴ to háv̧e̶ a͢ ̸wor͢d ͝wìt̸h̨ ͝y̕o͢u a̕s ͟a ̵matt͏e̡r òf ͜f͡àc̵t͏.”

The cloud of flies reared up, and Mr. Cornell screamed. They moved towards him and he began to run, jumping off the stage and bursting through the auditorium doors.

Everyone looked in shock for a second at the demon on the stage.

Then he whipped off his hat and bowed deeply, and the entire middle school burst into applause.

(Acacia, Hank, and Willow got into a little trouble at school and at home. But not much, and Dad made them their favorite for dinner the next night, so it was worth it.)


	69. Chapter 69

“Yet even though the monster had shown the prince the worse of him, still did the prince trust him. Not only trusted him, but loved him. And thus the prince married the sister of the monster and the three of them lived happily ever after.”

Dipper finished his tale, and looked happily on his niblings, who had long fallen asleep (though Hank surprisingly was the one to last the longest).

He leaned in to give each of them a kiss on the forehead, making sure in the process that their dreams would be pleasant tonight.

"Pole Star, Bright One, Little Fighter…good night," Dipper whispered. He stepped out of the room and made a motion with his hands, which shut the door gently and turned the light off.

He stood in the hall a second more to make sure his niblings stayed asleep, then began to float down the stairs. Mabel, before she left for an investigation in Kalamazoo, had stocked the fridge full of cookie dough ice cream for him. After spending time with the kids, Dipper thought he had it in him to materialize for a half hour and eat a whole carton of ice cream.

(Mabel knew her brother well, which was why there were seven cartons of ice cream in the freezer.)

Dipper popped on to the material plane, grabbed a carton, and went out into the living room, where Stan had long fallen asleep in his recliner. Dipper snapped and the recliner gently went back.

Also, Grunkle Stan stopped snoring, saving his ears.

Dipper settled in on the couch and began shoveling ice cream in his mouth, watching Duck-Tective on screen.

It was still a little weird to be at home while Mabel was out doing the whole Mystery Twin thing. But when the kids had been born, they had decided that anything that would take longer than two days or was more than four hours away Mabel would handle on her own.

"It’s just," she had said as they sat on the porch swing feeding the babies, "I know Stan and Henry can take care of themselves and protect the kids but-"

She paused as Acacia spat out her bottle and began to yell. She gave Acacia over to Dipper who handed her Hank in turn.

Mabel went on. “But I’d just feel better knowing you were here to make sure things are okay.”

Dipper had pulled a face at her and she didn’t even need to hear him say anything. Mabel boffed him upside the head.

"And of course I would call you if I needed help brobro- I’m not THAT stubborn!"

Dipper raised his eyebrows and his twin laughed.

His jaunt down memory lane was broken by an intense wave of emotion coming from Henry and Mabel’s bedroom. It was all dark, somber blues, anxious sickly yellows, deep throbbing purples of loneliness, the scent of old books and freckle that Henry exuded usually faded and faint, like something was missing.

Or, Dipper realized with a start, someone.

Sometimes he forgot he wasn’t the only one that missed Mabel when she was away.

He had an idea.

———-

Henry never slept well when Mabel was gone and tonight was no exception.

He was drifting in and out of that odd haze of consciousness and sleep when suddenly the springs of the mattress went clink and he felt next to him warmth and weight.

Henry opened his eyes to find cuddled up on his left hand side Acacia and Willow, with Hank on his right. They had all brought their blankets and the stuffed animals Dipper had made for them so the bed was a little crowded, and were already back asleep.

He ran a hand through Hank’s curls, gently, and looked over at his brother in law, who had joined the triplets on the bed and had spread his wings out over them.

"Sleep over?" Dipper asked a tad sheepfully.

"You got ice cream on your nose Dipper," Henry pointed out, but he was smiling as he did so. He settled back down into the pile of blankets and children and pillows, and Dipper did the same.

Then Henry had his first full night of sleep since Mabel left three days earlier.

(They did it again the next two nights, and when Mabel finally came home, it was still early enough that the five of them were in bed. She managed to save her squeeing until she had surreptitiously taken some pictures.)


	70. Chapter 70

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From the prompt "Dipper and Henry coparenting becuz I love their relationship SOOO much"

Henry was feeding Willow her bottle, and balancing the checkbook, when from upstairs he heard the wails of first Acacia, then Hank, waking up from their naps.  
  
"Dip, can you get the kids?" Henry yelled from the kitchen into the living room. There was no reply, nor sound of steps on stairs, but a moment later the sounds on the monitor turned from upset to content.  
  
It was beyond wonderful to have extra help, Henry thought, when one had three four month old infants at home.  
  
Even if some of that help was often invisible and unheard by him at times.  
  
Though Henry could tell most times, even without Mabel there to let him know, when his brother in law was in the room. There was a palpable presence in the air when Dipper was around. Not to mention the kids usually started to giggle and coo when Dipper was around them, and Willow would look at her uncle like a cat having a staring contest with the wall.  
  
Hank and Acacia came into the room, looking like they were floating in midair, bobbing gently up and down and cooing.  
  
"Mabel left some milk in the fridge," Henry informed Dipper. "The bottles with today’s date on them."  
  
Henry waited a second and then responded to Dipper. “And no I don’t know why she dated them if she knew we were going to use them this afternoon and she pumped this morning.”  
  
His children bobbed towards the fridge. They floated there for a second, and then suddenly Hank moved in a little circle and faced Henry.  
  
"Dipper, I could have held him while you opened the fridge; you know I don’t like it when you hold them in your wings. What if you drop them?"  
  
Two bottles floated out of the fridge.  
  
"No I’m not being a worrywart; also, that’s rather rich coming from you."  
  
The bottles went onto the counter.  
  
"Dude, don’t stick your tongue out at me you know I have a point."  
  
At this Dipper summoned the power to pop briefly onto the physical plane.  
  
"Henry, how on earth are you doing that? I  _know_  you can’t hear me.”  
  
Willow finished her bottle, and Henry adjusted her to burp her.  
  
"I can’t," he gleefully admitted. "But give me some credit, I’ve known you for six years, I know how you are."  
  
Willow burped, and Henry smiled. He put her gently into the car seat he had brought into the kitchen for her to lie in.  
  
"Now, if you got Hank, I’ll feed Acacia…." 

 

 


	71. Chapter 71

There were times when Dipper forgot himself. Times when Dipper disappeared altogether and only Alcor, only a demon, remained.

Decades where all he knew was the feast of souls, the taste of blood, the rending of flesh, and everything else was a blur, a fuzzy cloud, tiny ant like things that had no meaning at all.

Just as Dipper eventually snapped, and lost his sanity for a time, so too did Alcor eventually come back to himself.

Yet even in the throes of madness, there was one constant in his life, and that was to watch out for the little ones.

Sometimes the little ones didn’t seem to appreciate the gifts he brought them; candy that screamed, birds that were inside out, the One Ring Pop of Power. And often they would cower away in fear when he came, fire and fang and claw and void.

But he would never, ever hurt them. If there was one thing he always remembered, it was to watch and take care of the children.

Children that were offered to him he sheltered under his wings even as he rained death upon those who would dare to hurt the small.

Running across infants during his business and stopping to coo at them, or bestow a small blessing upon them or rock them gently to sleep (and didn’t this soul with the horns look familiar for some reason? Ah well.)

Leading kids from houses filled with pain and torment to a better place, a place that was rickety and drafty and had an odd sign on the roof but yet was filled with love (and the less said about what he did to those parents who deigned to hurt their children, the better.)

Finding children who had lost their way, be it in the woods or in the deeps of the city, and showing them the way home, with a warning that not everyone would be so helpful.

Helping the tiny, the helpless, the young, and wondering afterwards why his mind was filled with images of three equally small and helpless children topped with curly red hair.

(When he came back to himself one time, Dipper found that he had gained a reputation as a protector of children.

He could live with that.)


	72. Chapter 72

Delethia Robinson opened the drawer of her desk and looked longingly at the packet of Marlboro’s she had in there. She hadn’t felt the urge to smoke since she was pregnant with her first son, Benjamin. And that had been thirty years ago.  
  
But then she had never had any students like the Pines triplets before.   
  
With a shudder she shut the drawer and ran her fingers through her rapidly graying afro. Hopefully things would change, one way or the other, after this parent-teacher conference.  
  
Speaking of which…  
  
Mr. and Mrs. Pines entered the room. Mrs. Pines was five foot nothing, had long brown hair pulled back in a head band, and despite easily being in her mid-thirties at least, was wearing light up sneakers, a pink sweater with five cats shooting lasers from their eyes, and earrings of stars with wing like appendages from them. Her wrists jangled with the weight of all the bracelets she had on them, and her nails were painted a different color on each finger.  
  
Mr. Pines, who had to duck to come in the room, dwarfed his wife, having to be at least six and a half feet. Like his children, he had both red curly hair and thick rimmed glasses. He was dressed far more conservatively than his wife, in slacks, a plaid collared button up, and a sweater vest. Though Mrs. Robinson had never seen a sweater vest that had obviously been crocheted at home before.

"Sorry we’re late! We stopped by the playground on the way in to make sure the kids were okay!" Mrs. Pines exclaimed. Mrs. Robinson had a feeling that that was the way that the triplets’ mother talked all the time.

"That is okay Mrs-"

"Oh please, call me Mabel! Mrs. Pines is my mom!" (And was it her or was there a shadow that passed over Mrs. P-Mabel’s face as she said that?)

"I’m Henry," Mr. Pines followed, smiling gently, as Mrs. Robinson shook both of their hands.

They sat down, and after a minute of Henry trying to fit his frame in a desk that usually contained third graders, Mrs. Robinson began. 

"First of all, may I please assure you that your children are doing fine, and are not in trouble," Mrs. Robinson began. She didn’t miss the relieved looks that passed between Mabel and Henry.

” _However_ ,” she went on, “there are some things they have done the last few weeks that gives me great cause for concern.”

Mabel reached for Henry’s hand, and he clasped it in his own. “Like what?” Mabel asked, her effervescence now muted slightly. 

"I have reason to believe that your children are…are involved in demon summoning."

Mr. and Mrs. Pines looked nowhere near as upset as she thought they would be (should be) but Mrs. Robinson continued on.

"There’s a sweater that Acacia constantly wears that has a summoning circle of some type on it….a circle I fear is for one of the greater demons."

Not only was there a lack of response, but she could have sworn that Mrs. Pines was trying her best not to smile. 

"I’ve seen Hank and Willow floating  _in midair_  a few times after school lets out for the day, Hank refers to trading food at lunch as ‘making deals’, and then this morning I found  _this._ ”

With distaste, she pulled out the paper with a rough circle on it that had made Mrs. Robinson almost throw up when she saw it earlier that day and recognized what it was.

She placed it on the desk between her and the Pines so they could see the eight symbols, the roughly drawn eight pointed star, the sigil which looked discomfortingly familiar to Mrs. Pines’ earrings in the middle.

“This…” and she couldn’t help the slight shake in her voice. “is for summoning Alcor, the Dreambender. Third graders. I don’t wish to make any accusations against you two or how you choose to parent, but this gives me great cause for concern.”

She looked up from the offending piece of paper to see that there was no concern at all on Mr. and Mrs. Pines’ faces.

Oh they were feigning it really well, and Mr. Pines almost had it nailed down, but Mrs. Robinson had been wrangling third graders for twenty five years, and she knew a bullshit job when she saw one.

Finally, Mr. Pines said, “This is cause for concern indeed, and we will of course bring it up with the kids, and see where they got this from.” But he looked far too relaxed, and Mrs. Pines still had that maddening almost smile on her face, looked like she was on the brink of laughter.

Mrs. Robinson waited, silently. She had found when dealing with both students and their parents it was best to give them enough rope to hang themselves with.

“I really don’t know where they could have gotten that from,” Mrs. Pines managed to get out, and in any other situation, Mrs. Robinson would have grudgingly been impressed with the way Mabel kept a snerk, giggle, or snort from her voice.

Mrs. Pines went to take the piece of paper from the desk, getting out of her chair as she did. “Well, we’ll make sure the kids realize how, how serious this is, thanks for letting us know and-“

“ _Sit down Mabel Pines.”_

Mabel Pines may have been in her mid-thirties, owner of a successful business, married and with three children, but some voices went straight to the spine and hind brain and demanded to be listened to.

 

Mr. Pines straightened out of his slump to loom a little taller.

Mrs. Robinson was not so easily intimidated. “I have been teaching at this school for thirty years,” she started, disgust dripping from her voice. “And I have had to call CPS six times in my career on parents who abused and neglected their children. But I have never, ever seen such callous disregard in my life like I see in you two now. This isn’t just the physical safety of your children at risk but their _souls._ Does that not even _bother_ you? Do you two even _care?_ ”

Two spots of red had appeared on Mabel’s cheekbones, and Henry’s hands were shaking slightly, but Mrs. Robinson went on.

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call Child Protective Services or the police right now.”

Mrs. Pines opened her mouth, probably to begin to shout, but Mr. Pines gently took her hand in his.

“Mabel….we should tell her.”

She looked in her husband’s eyes, completely ignoring Mrs. Robinson.

“I don’t want to make things worse,” she said quietly.

Mr. Pines raised an eyebrow. “Don’t think they can get any worse-“

Mrs. Robinson snapped her fingers between the two of them and they both turned to stare at her.

“This is _not_ the time for fun or games, I want an explanation in the next thirty seconds or I call CPS in Bend.”

Mabel silently plucked the piece of paper from the desk. As she did so, Mrs. Robinson noticed for the first time that her hands were covered in calluses, scars, and scabs.

What kind of people _were_ these parents?

She, oh _god_ she was picking a scab on her thumb _and placing it onto the paper-_

Before Mrs. Robinson had a chance to react, Mrs. Pines simply said, “Bro-bro, can you come here for a second?”

There was no smoke, no roars, no smell of sulphur, no flash of fangs and claws.

Simply a desk that one minute was unoccupied and the next was filled with a man who looked remarkably similar to Mabel.

Though Mabel and the man had diametrically opposite senses of fashion.

And Mabel didn’t have bat wings springing from her back.

Or black sclera and gold irises.

“Mabes?” the man-no, the _demon_ , asked. “Um, what’s going on? Also, I’m pretty sure I left the oven on so I may need to get back soon…”

Mabel looked at Mrs. Robinson.

“May I introduce you to my brother, Dipper Pines?”

The demon sheepishly waved. Mabel took a deep breath.

“Also known as Alcor the Dreambender.”

Mrs. Robinson had seen everything the world could possibly throw at her over thirty years of teaching elementary school, and that included the Great Gerbil Eating Incident of 2002.

But this….this….

Mrs. Robinson fainted for the first and last time in her life.


	73. Chapter 73

It scared him how much he loved them.  
  
The them in question currently had Dipper buried on the couch in a tangle of limbs and red hair. All three of his niblings were asleep in a pile on top of him, exhausted from the three hour game of hide and seek in the forest the four of them had had and then the big dinner he had made for them.  
  
(If nothing else, let it not be said that Dipper Pines was a terrible babysitter.)  
  
His legs and wings pinned against the couch had long gone to sleep under the combined weight of three ten year olds but Dipper didn't mind.  
  
Briefly, he brushed through each of their minds, to make sure they were dreaming only of pleasant things. Acacia's mindscape was much like Mabel's, all violent day glow colors and adorable animals that could only exist within the mind. As he passed through, Acacia went by him, wearing her world conqueror outfit and riding on a fifteen foot tall fire breathing rabbit, named for obvious reasons, Greg.  
  
Greg could take care of Acacia. He moved onto Hank. Known only to him and his nephew, two to three times a week Hank dreamed about the kingdom of Anfar, complete with a cast of hundreds and epic adventure.  
  
It was all from Hank's imagination and it never failed to astound Dipper. Tonight Hank was in his regular role as The Protector of the Small (Hank may or may not had found Mabel's stash of Tamora Pierce last year.) Even as he went through a Native American woman who smelt like the river and had a large mohawk looked up from the maps Hank had and winked at Dipper.  
  
Dipper smiled back and entered Willow's dreamscape, only to physically recoil when he went in. It was a nightmare. Perhaps not an obvious one; there were no monsters, not even any other living things except Willow (and himself).  
  
His niece was in the center of a whirling maelstrom of color, which looked all too horribly familiar. She was curled in a ball, obviously way too scared to move. She looked directly at Dipper despite the fact that he was ostensibly here incognito, and her eyes were a bright glowing blue rim to rim, the same as his fire-  
  
(The same as the portal-)  
  
"Uncle Dipper, I can see _everything_ and I can't make it _stop_ ," Willow hiccupped. A tear of blood trickled down her face and she was shaking like a leaf.  
  
He rushed over and gathered Willow up in his arms, wrapping his wings around them so the world around her was blocked from view, as he took them to a more pleasant part of her dreamscape. The long dead portal below them tried to hold on to Willow, but he was the Lord of Dreams, and in his realm, there was no one or nothing stronger than him. He broke the pitiful hold the portal had on his niece and blipped them away.  
  
Willow opened her eyes again and smiled to see they were in one of her favorite dreams, a place of endless, calm grey fields, tall grey grass blowing in gentle waves. She sat up a little taller in his arms to give Dipper a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks Uncle Dipper," she said.  
  
"Any time Little Fighter," Dipper replied, smoothing her hair. "Do...do you want to forget what you saw back there?" he asked gently.  
  
The look that came from his niece was far, far older than her ten years. Finally she shook her head.   
  
"No, I may need it one day," she said calmly, and Dipper felt the bottom drop out of his stomach. That was too horribly familiar.  
  
But that was his worry, not hers, not after what she had just seen, so he hugged her again and left Willow to enjoy her grey fields and white and black butterflies in peace.  
  
He came back to his body. The triplets were all still asleep, Acacia drooling on his lap, and Willow snoring louder than a chainsaw. He began to stroke Hank's hair, thick and curly locks wrapping around his fingers as he did. Their minds burned so brightly and so beautiful to him.  
  
He would kill (had killed) anyone who tried to hurt them, rend flesh and bone to its component bits, usher souls to a grey hell to protect them.  
  
Dipper would burn the whole world, damn every living being on its surface to death, to keep them safe.  
  
Three hearts, beating strong and healthy against him. Three children that trusted him implicitly, without doubt, without question.  
  
(How long had that been for him? And how had it taken him to rebuild that trust? What was easily forgiven by Mabel still haunted him…)  
  
He could feel the blood coursing in their veins, the rise and fall of their chests as lungs expanded and contracted, the power burning underneath his skin that could easily burn the world if he wanted.  
  
He would do anything to save them.  
  
He _could_ do anything to save them.   
  
Dipper wasn't scared of what he could or would do to save the kids.  
  
What scared him was that he felt nothing, no guilt, no terror, at that idea. He constantly wiggled at that part of him, like Acacia worrying at each of her baby teeth with her tongue, and still no change.  


He had tried to bring this up to Mabel once, albeit perhaps not as direct as he could have been. Mabel who was usually spot on about anything that had to deal with feelings and mushy stuff, smiled and hugged him and said, “Oh are you worried that that’s Bill talk? That’s all you silly!” Then she had kissed him on the cheek and skipped off to see what Henry was making for dinner, leaving Dipper frozen in shock.

Becoming a demon hadn’t turned him into a monster.

It just refined what was already there.

Willow whimpered slightly against him in her sleep and he hastily shielded his thoughts further. He did not want to yank Willow out of her badly needed respite, just because he was angsting, as Mabel would put it.

It scared him how fast Willow could pick up on his feelings sometimes. Or the way Acacia looked up to him, or how Hank lit up brighter than the sun after a violin lesson.

They shouldn’t trust him. He would only tarnish and sully their light, drag them into the darkness with him. He had already ruined Mabel’s life, Dipper didn’t want to ruin theirs either.

In the distance he heard the front door open and close, and swearing-so Stan home then, rather than his sister and brother.

Maybe his parents were right after all.

Monsters didn’t belong around children.

“Kid, what’s got your goat?”

Dipper looked up.

Stan stood in the doorway, bow tie undone, fez askew, and a cold beer in his hand.

“Nothing,” Dipper smoothly lied, as he took his hand from Hank’s head.

Stan barked out a laugh, though in deference of the sleeping children in front of him, it wasn’t his usual loud-everyone-come-see-what-I’m-mocking laugh.

“Bullshit. I’m old. Not stupid.”

He held up Acacia’s legs, sat down on the couch, and draped them over his lap. “You look like you have a squirrel up your ass, Dipper.”

Dipper grimaced. “Wow, jeez, thanks for that image Grunkle Stan.”

They sat in silence for a minute, and Dipper was waiting for Stan to turn on the TV and get distracted. Instead his uncle sat there.

Not looking at Dipper, but seemingly content to stare off into nothing and enjoy his PBR.

Finally, Dipper cracked.

“I’m….Grunkle Stan, I think I should leave.”

“Door’s that way, get moving.”

Dipper scowled. “Grunkle Stan, I’m serious. I shouldn’t be around the triplets.”

Stan looked down to Dipper’s lap, where his great-grandchildr-niblings were asleep, not a care in the world.

“Yup, they sure are in danger around you kid.”

“I’m going to ruin them.”

Stan snorted. “Think awful highly of yourself then?”

“S̷t͝a͜n͘ t͠hi͞s̛ i͡s̡n͏'t f͘u̵nny.”

“Who says I’m laughing?” The old man sighed, and took another swig from his beer. He began to roll the can between his hands. “Why now?” he finally asked.

Dipper found his hands straying toward the girl’s hair, and whipped those traitorous puppies back to the safe zone on the back of the couch.

“I’ve….Stan, I’ve done a lot of bad things-“

“So have I kid. Join the club.”

“-and I was thinking about what I could do and Stan, I, I…I could _kill_ you all and I should just leave-“

Stan arched an eyebrow. “So we’re running away then?”

“Stan, _no_ I...how could you _say_ t̷h̛̺̳a̗̰͎ţ̮͍̺?”

He rolled his eyes. “Because that’s exactly what you’re talking about doing. Life is tough and scary, and you want to run away from it.”

Stan finished off his drink. “Life is tough and now you are too. It’s not a bad thing, or a good thing. Just is. Deal with it.”

“Stan, I’d kill for them-“

“It’s fucking better that then watching them get torn from you and being unable to a goddamn thing about it.”

Silence reigned in the room for a second, then Stan picked Acacia’s legs up again, stood up around them, and plopped them gently back down on the couch.

“I’m getting another beer. Want one?”

Dipper simply stared and Stan sighed.

“You think you’re the only one who would do anything for their family Dipper?” Stan asked gently, or as gently as someone like Stan could ever manage.

Then he turned and went into the kitchen.

Dipper stayed on the couch, for a second, unable to think or feel.

Then he moved the kids gently so he could get up, and picked Acacia up.

He walked her up to her bedroom, and placed her gently in bed, doing the same for Hank and Willow.

Dipper was a monster.

He would do anything for them, tear the world apart piece by piece for them, become something far worse than anything the Earth had seen before for his kids, for Mabel, for Henry.

And he wasn’t the only one in the Shack who felt that way.  


	74. Chapter 74

It was a good thing he was a being of pure energy with no weaknesses (mostly. Ish. It was complicated) otherwise Dipper was sure he’d be dead by now.  
  
As it was he had no idea how Mabel and Henry and Stan were managing it.  
  
The triplets had been home from the hospital for a week, and Dipper had never seen bags under his sister’s eyes until now.  
  
It didn’t help that the babies loved to sleep…on completely wildly different schedules. There was only an hour or two a day it seemed where all three of them were asleep together. The rest of the time just as one went down the other two would wake up.  
  
Mabel hadn’t changed her clothes in three days. Henry fell asleep standing up this morning. Stan had been uncharacteristically quiet, all the energy he usually put towards snarking and being a grump dedicated to staying awake and alert.  
  
It was a good thing that Dipper could hold them and touch the babies like he was able to do for Mabel otherwise they would have been fucked.  
  
Currently he was in the nursery trying to rock Hank to sleep. They had put the kids up in Mabel and Dipper’s old room, in the attic. It felt right, to have them in the bedroom that so many of their adventures and hopes and dreams had started in.   
  
It was also up a flight of stairs and on the complete opposite side of the house from Mabel and Henry’s bedroom, so it was not perhaps the most well thought out idea.  
  
The door clicked open and Dipper looked up. Mabel stepped in, her daughters in hand, both awake and howling like deranged banshees. She sat all three of them down in the rocker that was sitting next to Dipper’s chair, and pushed the chair into motion.

The twins rocked the triplets for a minute, the only sounds coming from the infants in their arms as cries turned to snuffles turned slowly, one by one, into sleep. Mabel placed Acacia and Willow in the crib, and Dipper followed behind with Hank. He made sure all three of them were positioned okay within the crib, and smiled as Hank and Acacia rolled to squish up next to Willow.

Then he phased downstairs, to the kitchen, where Mabel was making herself a jumbo cup of coffee.

“Make me one too please?” Dipper asked. He didn’t  _need_  it per se, but would make Mabel feel better, to see that he was suffering in the trenches just like she was.

She smiled at him, silently letting him know that she both saw through that but appreciated the effort, and pulled down another mug. When the pot was done, they both took their cups (Mabel having ‘sacrificed’ the coffee to Dipper for 25 minutes of corporeality) outside and sat on the porch swing that had recently been put up.

Dipper pushed them off and they started to swing. Soon one of the babies would inevitably wake up and they would have to take care of them but for now it was just the two of them, and the sun rising on the horizon.

The world stretched out in front of them, quiet and peaceful, a calm before the storm.

“We need to tell them everything,” Mabel said suddenly, out of nowhere. “About you, about us, about Grunkle Stan, about…about Grandpa Stanley.”

Unthinking, Dipper’s hand reached for her free one, and took it up into his palm.

“We will always be honest with them,” Dipper agreed.

“We will never lie to them,” Mabel continued.

Dipper looked out over the front yard. “Their trust in each other will never falter,” he said, an old pain going through him.

Mabel gave him a sad smile and countered with, “They will know they can always trust us. Always.”

“Nothing will ever hurt the-“

Mabel squeezed his hand. “Dipper, we….we can’t promise that. No matter how much we want to.”

Dipper almost objected, but he knew, deep down, that his twin was right.

“Well,” he said instead. “I will do anything,  _anything_  to protect them.”

Mabel leaned into his shoulder, and Dipper felt a hot tear drip onto his shoulder.

They drank their coffee.

They watched Gompers get into a head butting contest with the totem pole.

And inevitably, Acacia woke up wailing, bringing both of her siblings back into consciousness with her and breaking the spell on the yard.

As Mabel got up with a grimace, Dipper thought of a portal and of siblings separated.

Never again.


	75. Chapter 75

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this prompt
> 
> "something really sad and angsty"
> 
> I went somewhere completely different

“Alcor, I’m….I am dying.”

The great and terrible Dreambender, Destroyer of Worlds, Feaster of Souls, He Who Was Drenched in the Blood of Many, refused to believe it.

“Ǹ̷̢͟Ǫ̡͟͞!͏̴”

He rushed to the bedside of his best beloved. She lay under covers of the finest lavender silk, wearing a pale blue nighty that clung to her pert and taut breasts. Sweat beaded her brow like precious beads of polished crystal.

Hells, even her sweat was lovely.

He took her hand in his, minding not to scratch her precious delicate flesh with his hateful claws.

“Magdalena….my Mizar…what….what  _is_  it?”

She took a deep breath, her perfect chest rising and then falling gently, the nipples showing through like cut diamonds.

“It…It’s-“

She suddenly turned her head away, unable to look at him.

“My  _ashkazar_ , what is it? You can tell me…please?” Alcor pleaded, even though it was utterly debasing.  

A single tear rolled gently down her cheek, caressing the skin.

“It is… _cancer._ ”

At that, Alcor let out a mighty cry of rage at the heavens, who dared to even _think_  to deprive him of his Twin Star, his one and only, the love of his unlife, the-

“Mabel, do I  _really_  have to finish this?”

Dipper turned from the computer to see Mabel on the couch, swaddled in a blanket she crocheted and trying and failing miserably to hide a shit eating grin.

“Yes.”

He glared at her, and Mabel sniffled pathetically.

“Dipdops, I’m…I’m  _siiiiiiick._ ” For emphasis, Mabel coughed and jiggled the empty bowl of chicken noodle soup by her for emphasis.

Dipper rolled his eyes. “ _Fine._ ” He still didn’t see how this would make his sister feel better but, eh, he didn’t have anything better to do.

His eyes fell further down the screen.

“…the demon’s barbed love sword entered her moist sheath and-“

The computer went out the window.


	76. Chapter 76

For the first few years that Henry knew Dipper, he spent as much time getting to know him through Mabel as an intermediary as he did face to face.

Luckily, when Mabel wasn’t around, and Dipper couldn’t make it onto this plane and Henry had nothing to sacrifice, they still managed.

Dipper could manage most of the time to move at least a pen, so littered across the house were countless pads of paper and dry erase boards, with pens and markers attached by glittery pink yarn.

Ninety percent of the time that worked just fine, little notes left across the house, to match the shiver down his spine and the way that stray cats came to the window and  _stared_  at wherever Dipper was.

The other ten percent of the time, Henry would wake up, go into the bathroom, and find blood dripping down from the mirror, completely with clotted chunks and bits of hair.

There was nothing like going to shave in the morning, and turning on the bathroom lights only to find “Y͜O͠U ̕A̶RȨ O͞U͟T҉ ̸O̡F MI͟LK͡” dribbling slowly but surely down the mirrored surface and into the bowl of the sink.

For the first seven or eight times, Henry bonked his head on the ceiling and may or may not have screamed a bit.

After six months of marriage to Mabel, he had gotten to the point where he’d wipe it off with the Blood Towel they kept in their specifically for that purpose, and remember to yell at Dipper for getting chicken blood all over the bathroom.

Again.


	77. Chapter 77

Home.

She needed to get home.

Willow felt a blinding headache beginning to form between her eyes, at the very top of the bridge of her nose, and she sighed. It was an old familiar headache, and she reached for the bottle of naproxen in her purse, knowing it wouldn’t do much but still hoping without hope that it would work this time.

Next to her on the sidewalk, Acacia chattered, vivid butter yellows and sugar bright light, that would burn away the darkness. Hank was on her other side, calm and slow burning blues, with a white core at his center.

Their colors she could bear; they were her siblings, the other parts of herself that made her whole. And, if Willow was being honest, she was  _used_  to Hank and Acacia and their blues and yellows.

What she wasn’t used to was the substitute teacher they had for their first period AP US History, Mr. Dockery, who was deep throbbing blood red and Willow could almost taste the contempt and wasted opportunities from him through the mental shields that Uncle Dipper had showed her how to make so many years ago.

She wasn’t used to bumping into a senior in the cafeteria, and having waves of ultramarine wash over her, sadness so deep and dark that she felt like she was going to drown.

Willow wasn’t used to having a car pass her on the way home and taste the ochre overtones of a hateful argument between an old woman and her daughter go through her as sure as a punch to the chest.

Hank turned to her and asked her something, but she couldn’t even make out her brother’s words, only see him as worried periwinkles, and the white part of his flame beginning to burn brighter as he focused his attention on helping her.

Acacia for once must have noticed the mood she was in, and simply wrapped her arm around her sister, enveloping Willow in her warm citrine and golden glow.

It had gotten to the point by the time they got home that she couldn’t even make out the features of her siblings, only their auras, their colors.

Her mom, bright primary color red and blue and yellow, was both comforting but at the same time made her want to cringe and curl into a small ball on the floor.

Luckily, Willow’s mom understood.

Her mom  _knew_ , and simply scooped Willow up into her arms (even though Willow had about a foot on her mom at this point) and carried her up the stairs into the attic, to their room.

She plopped Willow on her bed, and quickly left, though not before telling Willow that “Dinner at six, okay Will-Cat?”

The door shut behind her and finally Willow was alone.

Blessedly alone.

She reached under the bed and began to pull out the four or five comforters and crocheted blankets that she kept under there for days like this.

Willow pulled them all over her and curled into as much of a ball as she could make herself into.

The world around her was grey and black and white, and above all,  _quiet._

Finally, she felt the tightness in her chest begin to ease, the headache begin to fall a way.

Willow was home.

(Twenty minutes later another weight joined her on the bed, and her uncle was there, dropping golden tears in her hair.

He didn’t need to. It wasn’t his fault…well, mostly not….but she didn’t mind him stroking her hair as she took his hand in hers.)


	78. Chapter 78

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from this tumblr prompt
> 
> Alcor getting summoned by a high school honors student with a zillion extracurricular things who just wants to stop needing sleep/feeling tired all the time

The girl in front of him was sobbing piteously, sounding uncomfortably like Acacia or Willow to his ears.

He had long since abandoned his usual “fear me puny mortal” schtick, and currently was pulling endless tissues out of his top hat while his summoner, Agneta, cried her eyes out.

She had somehow heard about how he would accept ice cream as payment, and had gotten fifteen cartons, in all flavors and varieties. He hadn’t been this happy (or this full. Or this feeling the need to vomit sparkles) at a summons in a very long while.

Now if he could just get her to tell him what she  _wanted_  in return; the longer his end of the deal went unmet, the more of a leaden weight it became in his stomach (and the more likely it was that ‘cutie yellow sparkle puke’ as Mabel called it would make an appearance.)

Agneta took a deep breath to blow her nose, and Dipper gently broke in.

“What can I give you in turn for the ice cream?” he gently asked.

“ _I JUST WANT TO SLEEP!”_  the teen wailed at the top of her lungs and began sobbing again. In between gasps of breath and blows of snot, Agneta went on. “I…I just got so much to do, and I’m so stressed out, and I can’t relax but I need to relax and I’m starting to see things out of the corner of my eye and I almost crashed my bike three times yesterday but I can’t sleep, I can’t,  _I can’t-_ “

Her sobs this time sounded broken, and Dipper’s traitor heart ached for her.

“Here kid, since you gave me so much ice cream…”

Dipper gently took his hat with its endless supply of Kleenex away from Agneta, and reached inside.

First he took out a small satchel that smelt like lavender and rosemary and vanilla, and handed it over to Agneta, who took it with shaking hands.

“Put that under your pillow, and that should help you relax enough to start getting some sleep at night.”

Agneta smiled, all braces and crooked grin, for the first time since he met her.

Dipper wasn’t done yet. He reached his whole arm into his hat, Agneta’s eyes growing wide as dinner plates. It was in here  _somewhere_ -ah!

He triumphantly brought out a ragged looking piece of Lisa Frank stationary, and handed it to Agneta, who took it somewhat bemusedly.

“Mabel Juice?” she read aloud, and cocked an eyebrow at him, though the effect was lessened with her red eyes and snot dribbling out of her nose.

Dipper smiled. “It’s weird, but trust me, it’s still healthier than all that coffee you’re pounding down. Pretty sure that will stunt your growth or um, something like that?”

Agneta surprised him by grabbing him into a massive hug.

“Thank you thank you  _thank you-“_

Dipper grinned, baring his shark teeth. “All part of the deal,” he said, which totally sounded really cool and suave and he was going to have to gloat at Mabel when he got back that he could  _totally_  be cool at summons when he wanted so there. 

(Years later, Dipper was reading through one of Henry’s newspapers, and saw that the Nobel Peace Prize for Chemistry had been recently awarded to one Agneta Masipag for her revolutionary work in a miracle energy drink that actually worked with few to no side effects.

Though it did sparkle quite a bit.)


	79. Chapter 79

Sitting in his wheelchair (that had long since been bedecked in rhinestones and glitter by Mabel,) Stan couldn’t help but feel a massive wave of deja-vu.

There was his niece, sitting blearily up in bed, tired and proud and tripping out on drugs all at the same time.

There was her spouse, a familiar look of weariness and having been repeatedly hit by a truck on their face.

There was his nephew, crying and freaking the fuck out of the nurse who was obviously new to Gravity Falls.

And here….

“Say hello to your great-great grandkids Grunkle Stan,” Acacia warbled from the bed. She was pale, had massive bags under her eyes, and had forgotten both her glass eye and eyepatch at home so she was looking a little creepy, but Stan had never seen her so happy in her life.

Reina gently placed a little girl on one arm, as Mabel placed a little boy on the other.

He looked down at them for a minute.

They both had furious red hair, Reina’s deep brown skin, and Acacia’s big nose (Stanley’s big nose). The girl looked more like Reina in the face, and the boy more like Acacia.

“What are they called sweetie?” Stan finally managed to ask, over the tears that he was not crying.

“You’re holding Josefa in your left hand,” Reina began, before looking at her wife, who finished.

“And that…that’s Stan in your right,” Acacia said gently.

It felt like all the breath left Stan’s body. He looked down at his great-great grandson (he was not going to be here much longer, Stan knew that, and he had long gotten past the point of caring about proper names).

Little Stan opened his eyes and glared blearily up at him. One of his hands popped out of his swaddling.

There was six fingers on the little hand.

“Is…is…do you mind Grunkle Stan?” Acacia asked him hesitantly, and Stan belatedly realized that he hadn’t said anything, was still gaping down at Josefa and Little Stan like a fish.

“It’s perfect,” he finally managed to rumble out, gently brushing a thumb across the face of his newest grandson.

Little Stan’s cheeks were wet, yet his eyes were dry.


	80. Chapter 80

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from this prompt
> 
> onedreamaday1 answered: The triplets finding thie mom’s ‘Mabel’s Guide to Lide’ tapes

“Join us next week when we’ll be doing “Mabel’s Guide to Apologizing to your Great Uncle!”

The tape whirred and clicked to a stop in the old machine, outdated technology even when the tape was made. 

A hand covered in liver spots pressed the eject button.

“I think…that was the last of them,” Hank said, as he sat back down on the couch between his sisters.

Downstairs spouses, children, grandchildren, and great-grandchildren were milling around, eating and talking and reminiscing about Gam-Gam Pines. 

Outside the window, next to a mighty apple tree there was a freshly dug mound of dirt, with a pine sapling planted in it.

Willow silently put her hand into her Uncle Dipper’s, who was sitting with them on the couch. 

Golden tears rolled off of his face, spilling on to their joined hands. It stung her skin, but Willow didn’t care.

The four of them had knew this was coming for awhile, spoken to her often about it as the last few months of her life slowly wound down.

In a few minutes, they would go downstairs, and join in the talking, or try as best as they could to do so.

For now Dipper and his niblings could only sit on this couch, the couch Mabel and Dipper used to jump on, the couch Mabel nursed her children on.

Sit and realize that no matter how ready they thought they were, they really weren’t.


	81. Chapter 81

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from this prompt
> 
> thoughtsfromajackofart answered: Henry getting introduced to Bear-o for the first time. bonus points if Dipper is there and hides behind Henry to get away from it

“Henry! Look who I found!”

Henry looked up from the mass of boxes he was buried in. They were currently cleaning out the attic while Mabel was still not far along and able to help with moving things.

(Starting the nursery now was Mabel’s idea, and none of them were even going to think about arguing with her.)

Mabel popped out of a massive box holding…

holding…

Well.

That was vaguely terrifying. 

It was a bear puppet….doll…thing, with massive rolling googly eyes, moth eaten fur, a vague smell of mold coming off of it, and clothes with unidentifiable stains on them. 

Henry was pretty sure that thing came out of the depths of Hell, but Mabel looked so happy to have found it that all he said was, “Who’s that Mabes?”

“Bear-o! The cutest, funnest bear around! Ooooh we can put this in here for the babies!”

“ _NO-_ um, I mean, maybe not until they’re a little older and they won’t be tempted to chew on him. He is kind of old after all.”

Mabel nodded. “Good point.” Henry felt a stillness in the air that meant Dipper had come into the room, proven when Mabel turned to one corner of the room brandishing Bear-o.

“Dipdops, look who I found!”

Henry suddenly felt a weight on his shoulders, claws gently but firmly digging into his shoulders, and he could swear he heard Dipper hissing like a cat.

_“M͇̘͉a̭̠̹̤b̀e̴̻͎̠͓̤̘̮l͖̺̭͕̻͞ ͔g͙̦͍̗̹͈͝e͏̮t ͇t͔̭͉̠͍͙͚̕h̞̳͖̥̲̀at͈̖̙͙̝ͅ ̠͕̰̮ͅa̖͉̫͢ͅͅw̘̖͖̙͈̙̺͜a͉y̸̲͔̞ ͏f͕̞̼ro̞͞m̼͈͈̯̪̩ ̰̤̣̼͕̰̞͝m̡e̮͖̝ ̣͓̳͇͖̫r͖i̦̩͙̰͍ͅg͖̠̙͈̤̜h͍̟͔̺͙̝t͍̦ ͙̱̰̱̗͉͡n͎̤͓̙͖̩̖͡o̤͔̺͕w̢.̖͈ ̵͖͎̤̰ “_

(Grunkle Stan managed to get a picture of the whole thing. Laughs were had all around for years afterwards by everyone but Dipper.)


	82. Chapter 82

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from this prompt
> 
> iamafandomhopper answered: Toby gets stranded in another universe/dimension and Alcor has to go get him

Dipper looked to where Toby had been only a second ago before a dimensional rift had opened and sucked him in.

He grabbed fists full of hair, and screamed out of frustration. In a nearby pond, dead fish began to bob to the surface.

Dimensional rifts didn’t just  _occur out of nowhere_  like that. 

And of course, of  _fucking_  course the one that did pop up randomly without rhyme or reason sucked his so-the kid into it. 

He looked up at the sky and moaned.

“Seriously? Is this like a lesson or something?” Dipper groaned to the universe in general.

The universe did not deign to respond.

A small part of Dipper was tempted to leave the boy where ever he had ended up, his enemy and nemesis forever locked away in….

in…

No. 

He couldn’t do that. Couldn’t do that and be the person Mabel and Henry and everyone else believed him to be.

And, since it was only him here, he could admit that he would miss the brat if he didn’t go get him.

Gathering his power to hand, Dipper sighed the biggest sigh he possibly could, and ripped a hole in reality to go after Toby.


	83. Chapter 83

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this prompt
> 
> the-tao-of-fandom answered: I am absolutely convinced that Pacifica and the twins became bffs at some point so maybe Henry meeting her/watching her interact with the twins for the first time?

Like Dipper, Pacifica had become all too accustomed to helping Mabel pick up the pieces of her heart after the latest girlfriend or boyfriend decided they couldn’t handle her life or her family.

Yet here she was in Greasy’s waiting to meet the latest one.

She stirred a packet of Splenda into her coffee (and ignored the voice of her mother in her head harping that coffee would stain her teeth).  _Dipper_  of all people actually vouched for him.

Of course, that little shit had done so by way of a message left in dripping blood on her bathroom mirror, and she had a spray bottle of holy water in her purse to get him with the next time she saw him, but the point was, Dipper had _never_  done that before. 

Despite herself, she had to admit she was pretty curious about this Henry guy her friend had started to go out with. The way Mabel had talked him up, she made him sound hotter than Idris Elba, Brad Pitt, and Sand Glaesilegt rolled up into “a hot guy burrito, trust me Paz, he is just…the dreamiest okay?”

The bell above the door rang, and in walked Mabel, Dipper, corporeal for once and a red headed man who had to duck to get in. As soon as they were all in, Mabel immediately reached for his hand.

Ah. This must be Henry then.

Pacifica looked at the man critically for a second. He was probably the tallest man she had ever seen, and looked like a living freckle. He was all angles and bones popping out and looked like he hadn’t eaten a solid meal in two months. His hair was curly and didn’t seem to have had a comb through it in a long while. His nose was massive, there was a hole in his jeans, and she could tell by the plaid that he  _must_  be a Corduroy and-

No.

She was not going to think like her mother, like her father. She promised herself that a long time ago and though it was hard sometimes, she still kept that promise to herself. 

So he wasn’t a hunk, or at least what Pacifica would have considered cute. But none of that mattered if he treated Mabel well and was friends with Dipper. And his hazel eyes were kind behind his glasses.

Mabel saw her and began to wave her arm at Pacifica like a drowning man at sea.

Henry saw who Mabel was waving at and smiled-

Oh. 

Okay.

She could see the appeal.

Pacifica still wanted to see what he was like around Dipper and Mabel, but she suddenly had a good feeling about Mabel’s newest boyfriend.

(By the end of lunch, she was convinced that this was the man Mabel was going to marry, and tried not to gloat when she was proven right several months later)


	84. Chapter 84

When the triplets were born, Mabel had decided that it was important, especially as the kids got older, that each of them got one on one time with the adults in their lives.  
  
“I want them to know they’re special,” Mabel had said, and Dipper nodded along. Stan wondered at that; he didn’t see Mark and Anna, for all their current faults, treating the twins like one unit. Maybe someone else?  
  
The long and short of it was that every time he ran errands or went into town, Stan had one of the triplets with him.  
  
Today he was running to Bend, to get some groceries at the froufrou grocery store there for something fancy his son-in-…Henry was making.  
  
He and Willow were going to make a side errand that Stan hadn’t told them about and would  _not_  approve of but hey, what they didn’t know wouldn’t kill them.  
  
Stan looked in the rear view mirror at the six year old in the back seat. He would have rather had her up front, where he could keep a better eye on her, but Dipper had thrown a hissy fit about how she was too small and that Stan’s car was a “rolling metal death trap.”  
  
The nerve of some people, honestly. He had put seatbelts in this thing himself, for pete’s sake.

  
Large blue eyes looked guilelessly at Stan under a mop of wavy red hair and Stan felt kind of bad for bringing Willow on this other errand for a minute.   
  
He shook his head. He had brought along Hank and Acacia before and there had been no problem. And it would only take five minutes’ tops.   
  
“Grunkle Stan, why are you green like Mommy’s sweater?” his niece asked and Stan broke out in a cold sweat.  
  
Fuck.  
  
He forgot about that.  
  
“What do you think it means?” Stan asked. Dipper had been taking her out and giving her lessons for lack of a better term.   
  
Lessons that he could have  _sworn_  included shielding herself and-no, she was only six, be patient, he could still make this work.  
  
Willow, bless her, was deep in concentration. That was one bullet dodged, at least for now.  
  
(And wouldn’t Lee have loved it, a granddaughter with the Sight? His heart twinged and he put that thought aside for later.)  
  
He pulled off an unmarked side road off the main drag to Bend, and slowed down as the junker began to navigate the dirt road.  
  
Stan needed to get his head in the game. Sure what he was buying was on fifteen government proscribed lists, but he had been buying books from Lou for almost forty years and hadn’t run into a problem yet. And this was one grimoire that would be safer in the Library and out of the hands of anyone else. Stan had mentioned the title offhand to Dipper last week and the blood had drained completely from his nephew’s face.  
  
(He wasn’t tempted to use it; that was a road that started with your brother and ended with your nephew the demon)  
  
They pulled up to an old trailer and Stan parked next to Lou’s jeep. He checked that were all the windows were cracked open and then told Willow, “I’m going in just for a few minutes sweetie, and I’ll be right back out. Will you be okay?”  
  
Willow looked at him with large, worried eyes.  
  
“Grunkle Stan, there’s red all over. But not fun red like mommy. Scary red.”  
  
Stan’s stomach twisted. Should he go-?  
  
No. No he trusted Lou, and it was literally only going to take five minutes. Just cash, book, go. And Willow was still learning after all.  
  
“I’ll be fine Will, I promise,” Stan replied. But just in case, Stan unsnapped the watch from his wrist and handed it to Willow.   
  
“If I’m not back in twenty minutes call your Uncle, okay?”  
  
Willow nodded, and Stan pecked her on the head before closing the back door of the car and heading to the trailer.  
  
He rapped on the door twice. “It’s Stan you old codger!” he called out to the fence, and then stepped in; Lou always left the door unlocked when he was expecting company.  
  
Stan went to the kitchen, where Lou always conducted business. There was Lou, in an undershirt, pants and suspenders like usual, though he was facing away from Stan. There was a paper bag, which contained the grimoire. There was an overflowing ash tray, and Lou’s morning White Russian.  
  
It was the same scene that had greeted him a hundred times before but Willow’s warning echoed through his head and twisted his gut.

Damnit, it was just Lou.

Stan reached inside his jacket and pulled out a wad of cash.

“Two spot, just like you asked Lou.”

There was no response from the other man, who hadn’t even turned around to greet him.

Fuck.

Stan tossed the cash on the table, and casually placed his hand in his pocket. With the other he began to reach for the paper bag.

“Well, I’m just going to take this and leave, good doing bu-“

“Are you going to read it Stan?”

Stan froze. Lou hadn’t moved a muscle, but was still staring at the wall.

“Um, no, gonna…gonna put it in a safe or something, I don’t know, look I should really go so-“ Stan quickly grabbed the book and tucked it in his jacket pocket. He started to back out of the kitchen when Lou spoke up again.

“I was curious so I took a peek inside. Read some pages.”

Finally Lou turned around to face Stan. There was blood running out of his eyes, his nose, his mouth, pooling in his lap.

“I…Stan, I don’t feel so well. I think I’m going to-“

Lou paused, and began to retch, heaving spurts of blood out of his mouth, his dentures falling out with the force of his throes.

Stan had a sinking feeling that Lou was beyond help now.

And that his niece had been right to warn him.

He started to edge his way over to the knife block, Lou now convulsing on the floor, and unable to notice Stan’s hand going towards the butcher knife.

Lou wrenched up, and then, for lack of a better term, exploded.

No, Stan thought absently as he grabbed the knife from the block and whipped his brass knuckles from his pocket in his other hand, exploded wasn’t quite it.

More that the bones and muscles under Lou’s skin decided to reform into a new shape and leave Lou behind, ripping their way out of his skin, peeling it off in chunks and bits, sloughing layers of hair and clothes to the floor.

The viscera that had been under cover only a second ago began to grow, organs falling out as muscle and bone formed into something new.

Something monstrous.

Of course this had to happen the day his niece was outside waiting in the car.

The thing that had been Lou (and for brevity’s sake Stan was just going to call it Not-Lou) roared and it shook the ratty trailer down to its cinder blocks. Not-Lou rushed at Stan and just as he was up on him, Stan threw himself to the floor, slashing at the tendons at Not-Lou’s ankles as he did so.

Not-Lou went down screaming, and Stan scrambled to get up and ran for the door. A thin snake like thing whipped out and grabbed him on his left calf. He fell back on the floor and looked more closely and-

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!” Stan screamed. One of the tendon tendrils had simply grown longer, to lasso Stan down. Not-Lou’s mouth opened wide,  _too_  wide, as he began to drag Stan back to him.

Luckily Stan still had the knife in hand, and thrust it blade first down onto the tendril. It snapped in two under the blade of Stan’s knife, and the recoil sent Stan flying across the room, ass over teakettle. He hit a bookshelf and, adding insult to injury, got a face full of books.

God he was getting too old for this shit.

Not-Lou roared and thank God that Not-Lou seemed to be just some mindless monstrous death machine rather than a creature that actually could think and had free will. Stan could deal with mindless monstrous death machines; that was half of what he and his brother and Ruth did before they got to Gravity Falls and Stan was shutting that train of thought down now.

Stan shook himself off and looked at his hand. This knife wasn’t going to cut it. Stan’s head whipped around the room; he  _knew_  Lou had kept a shotgun around here somewhere. But where would an old fence like Lou keep it?

Not-Lou loped towards him, or as much as he could in the cramped confines of the trailer. Stan grabbed a pepper shaker that was next to a dirty plate on an end table and when Not-Lou got close enough, threw the contents at his nose…eye…snout thing. (Seriously, Not-Lou was fucking gross.)

While Not-Lou was scrabbling at his facial region and screaming loud enough to shatter glass-literally-Stan made for the couch. He hoped forty years of watching Lou shove cash under his shitty brown plastic covered couch would prove him right. Stan shoved his hand under there, grasping, grasping, and-

_Yes._

Finally  _something_ was going right.

Just in time too because Not-Lou just…oh sweet Moses he ripped off his face, and grew a new one back and Stan was seriously considering burning that book when he got home.

Not-Lou launched at him and Stan prayed to a God he hadn’t believed in since he was seven that the gun was loaded.

He pulled the trigger and a blast of buck shot sprayed into Not-Lou’s new face and torso. Not-Lou paused for a second, and then where the buck shot had hit him burst into flame, sending the monster into another round of screaming.

Lou, bless his weasel heart, had buckshot that was coated in salt and made of silver, from what Stan could see of the ones that had hit the floor.

Stan fired another volley into Not-Lou, just in case, and high tailed it for the door.

Maybe he should have tried to stay and kill this beast, but he had a niece outside. As far as Stan was concerned, the whole world could burn to ashes, as long as his kids were safe.

He careened out the door and flew down the stairs. The car was still there, and Willow still safely inside, though she was as pale as a sheet and he should have listened to her, goddamnit.

Willow was a good girl though, a better niece than a man like him deserved, because she had stayed in the car, and more importantly, stayed calm even as Not-Lou emerged out of the trailer and roared loud enough to shake the very ground. Stan dived for the car door, and let himself in, thanking his lucky stars that he had thought to leave the keys in the ignition.

In the rear view he could see Willow begin to roll down the window.

“Willow, now is not the time-“Stan yelled as he threw the car into reverse.

“Trust me Grunkle Stan!” Willow cried, sounding far older than her six years. She opened the window enough to stick a hand out and pointed-

Blue flame shot out of her hand and hit the Not-Lou, who had gotten uncomfortably close while Stan had been starting the car. It shouldn’t have done much of anything but for whatever reason, maybe because there was copious amounts of magic involved in the making of Not-Lou, he instantly burst into flame.

Stan had been willing to leave Not-Lou for someone else to deal with, but since it was looking like he was about to be down for the count….

“Kid, is your seatbelt on?” Stan growled.

“Yes Grunkle Stan,” Willow replied.

“Good,” he said, and did as much of a donut as his old car could handle to face Not-Lou. He gunned the engine and plowed into the beast, which flew over his hood and landed on the ground behind the car. Stan slammed the car into reverse, and ran over the flaming corpse of the Not-Lou.

Then to make sure, he ran over the monster several more times.

Then he got out with the shotgun, and filled the flaming flattened corpse with the remaining buckshot.

It never hurt to be sure.

When Not-Lou was as dead as Stan could be reasonably sure that he could be, Stan got back into the car, and pealed out as best he could on a dirt road away from Lou’s place.

They got back onto the paved road, and Stan started towards Bend, because even though he wanted a hot bath and a whisky after all the shit he just pulled, it would be really suspicious if he returned back home with no groceries.

Willow was quiet in the back seat and Stan felt like a complete shithead.

Finally, he gathered the courage to speak.                                                                                          

“Sweetie….I’m…I’m sorry I didn’t believe you,” Stan said, eyes firmly on the road.

“I knew you wouldn’t,” Willow simply replied, and Stan felt his heart break at the thought that he had failed his niece so completely and utterly. He pulled off onto the shoulder of the road, put the car in park, and twisted as best he could in his seat to look at her.

“Willow, I…I promise…” Stan paused and took a deep breath. “I promise that I will always listen to you from here on out. You tell me something’s wrong, I believe it. I promise kid. You saved my life today but you wouldn’t have had to if I had listened to you in the first place and-”

Willow broke out into a massive sunny smile and giggled.

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

Willow nodded. “Can we get ice cream at A&W?”

Stan barked out a laugh. “You saved my ass, sure kid.”

He thought about the afternoon’s events and paled. If Mabel found out….oh _fuck._

“So, um…you’re not going to tell your parents about this are you?” Stan asked, hand behind his head.

Willow thought about it for a second, nibbling on the end of her braid.

Finally, she said, “I won’t tell, but I won’t lie.”

“Fair enough.”

Willow leaned in for a kiss, which Stan obliged. Together, he and his great-granddaughter rode into town together.


	85. Chapter 85

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> From this prompt
> 
> Pacifica meeting the triplets for the first time :)

"They’re really red."

Mabel laughed.

"Well yeah! They got Henry’s hair! His marvelous, fantabulous hair-"

Pacifica raised an eyebrow at her friend, propped up in her hospital bed, an infant in each arm.

"Are you still high?" she asked.

"PAAAAAZ! Nope, the only high I am right now is on life. And lack of sleep; the kids don’t seem to want me to have any."

Mabel kissed the head of each child-no,  _names_  Pacifica, Willow and Acacia-she had in her arm. Pacifica wasn’t much for kids, had never really been around infants or small children, but she had to admit that Mabel and Henry’s babies were kind of cute.

In an under formed squishy jelly bean kind of way.

It was just Pacifica and Mabel in the room right now. Dipper was doing “demon stuff and he’s going to probably be really cranky when he gets back,” and Henry and Stan were back at the Shack, getting things ready for when Mabel and the babies were discharged tomorrow. Pacifica kind of liked that it was just her and her friend, her best friend, right now and-

Her thoughts were interrupted by a snuffling sound coming from a plastic box on wheels near Mabel’s bed; was that supposed to be a crib? It looked terribly sterile and cold to Pacifica.

"Hank wants in on this action; can you hold him Paz?"

Pacifica froze.

Mabel furrowed her brow, as the snuffling became louder, threatening to erupt into cries. “Pacifica?”

Northwests  _never_  lost. Everything a Northwest did they did perfectly and without fault. 

Too bad no one had ever taught her how to do the truly important things in life.

Ignoring the voice in her head that was yelling at her to not show weakness, the voice that sounded far too much like her father, Pacifica muttered “I don’t know how to hold him.”

Mabel, bless her, didn’t ask if Pacifica had never been around babies before (she hadn’t) or didn’t she have other relatives (she did but they were distant, older, and prone to infighting.)

All she did say was,”Come over here for a second, and look how I’m holding the girls.”

Pacifica got closer to the bed and noticed the way Mabel supported their heads, how comfortable she seemed with them. She couldn’t do the latter but she could try for the former.

She went to the little mobile crib that held Mabel’s son, and steeled herself. She was Pacifica Elise Northwest and she could do this. Pacifica looked at the little boy with vaguely pointed ears and Mabel’s snub nose, and picked him up.

"Thanks Paz; that wasn’t so bad was it? Um, Pacifica, are you okay?"

Pacifica was frozen. The little boy in her arms peering at her myopically was so fragile and she was going to hurt him, she didn’t know what she was doing, she couldn’t be trusted with Hank and _oh fuck he was about to cry_.

"Paz."

Mabel’s voice cut through her thoughts and she turned-carefully, so carefully-and looked at her best friend.

"Hank can tell you’re scared; don’t be. Just sit down and relax. I trust you."

"I’m going to hurt him," Pacifica said in a tiny voice she didn’t recognize as her own.

"Nope, you’re his Auntie, you’ll never hurt him."

Her body of its own accord sat down in one of the chairs in the room. She…she had never been anyone’s aunt before.

She relaxed, and Hank calmed down. She touched his cheek with a trembling finger, and with remarkable speed for his two days, Hank whipped his head around and stuck the finger in his mouth.

"Uh-"

Mabel laughed. “He’s hungry the little oinker. Let me feed the girls and then you can hold your nieces while i take care of Hank.”

Nieces. Nephews.

And a friend that trusted the most precious people in the world to lay safe in her arms.

Pacifica could get used to this.


	86. Chapter 86

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this fic prompt
> 
> Stan with pregnant Mabel

The nice thing about a specialist library, Stan thought as he prepped for the day ahead, was that there was low overhead cost.  
  
Sure the books cost money, but there were…. _other_  means of getting them often times. But just like the Mystery Shack, there was no rent since he owned the building, and labor was low since it was just him and-  
  
“Hey Grunkle Stan!”  
  
-Mabel running the library.  
  
Stan observed his niece as she waddled into the Library, dressed for work in her “READ?!” sweater and sweatpants. The sweatpants weren’t probably what was considered your usual librarian attire but then again, he and Mabel weren’t your usual librarians. And considering that Mabel was only six months pregnant but between her height and carrying triplets looked like she was ready to pop already, Stan wasn’t inclined to trouble his niece in anyway.   
  
With some effort, Mabel made it to the main desk and sat down behind it. She started to reach under the desk to get some Mabel Juice from the mini fridge she and Stan had somehow wedged under the desk last year, but had a hard time reaching around her stomach.  
  
Stan quickly went to the desk.  
  
“I got it sweetie,” he said, and bent to open the fridge, grabbing the Mabel Juice from between the beers he kept in there (his Library, his rules).  
  
Mabel smiled wanly; she still was getting used to accepting people’s help. “Thanks Grunkle Stan.” She took the bottle of Mabel Juice and began to chug it.  
  
“Is that….” Stan started, stopped, and then started again. “Is that okay for you to be drinking that with the kids?”  
  
Mabel nodded. “Uh-huh; I showed Dr. Freeman my recipe and she said it wouldn’t hurt. Also that I was a human garbage disposal but I think that was just because Dipper was irritating her.” Seeing as Mabel was the only person who liked and willingly ate his cooking (Stan knew it was bad) he had to silently agree with Mabel’s peppery ob-gyn.  
  
Mabel finished her drink, sat the bottle on the desk, and then gave a massive window shaking burp.  
  
Stan laughed. “Good one kid.”  
  
Mabel giggled and then started.  
  
“ _Oh!_ The babies are moving, feel!” Quicker than a snake, Mabel’s hand darted out to grab Stan’s wrist, placing his left hand on her stomach.  
  
Before he had a chance to really react, he felt a little foot kick against his hand. Against his wrist another triplet nudged against him, almost as if they were demanding his attention as well.  
  
No one had trusted him like this before. Even when Ruth was pregnant with Mark… well, the relationship between him and his sister in law had already started to strain at that point, and then there was all the time he spent doing upkeep on the Shack to get it to a somewhat livable state, the errand he had to run in Mexico…  
  
As it was, he had counted himself lucky at the time to be allowed to hold Mark at the hospital.  
  
“Neat right? It’s like that movie you showed me and Dipper once, you know the one that made Dipper squeak like a squirrel and pop into the Dreamscape?”  
  
“Alien?”  
  
“Yeah!” Mabel beamed at him and Stan felt a pain in his chest. Even after everything that had happened, everything he had done to her and Dipper, she still trusted him.   
  
Was going to trust him with three small, helpless infants. With her children.  
  
He wanted to tell her to run, to take Henry and Dipper and get as far away from his as possible, before he ruined her life like he had Dipper-  
  
(Like he had his brother.)  
  
But the damn kid wouldn’t listen every time he had brought it up, just laughed and told him to stop being “a grumpy goof…no, wait…a  _GroGrunkle!_ Oh my gosh Mabel for the win!“ 

He had a sick feeling he could tell her about the blood on his hands, the lack of regret he had for most of the hurt he had dealt out, the bodies fallen by his actions, and her response would be the same.  
  
She trusted him. She shouldn’t but she did.  
  
Maybe…maybe he should repay her faith in him in kind.  
  
Not often men like him got second (third) chances, and a voice that sounded like Lee in his head was yelling at him to stop being such a fucking idiot.  
  
Also that there were custome…egghea…  _patrons_ outside waiting to be let in.   
  
Stan awkwardly patted his grand-niece’s stomach getting another laugh from Mabel.  
  
"Feels like one of them has a good left hook already going,” he gruffly said.  
  
"Yeah, they got it from you silly. Now let everyone in before they break down the door.”  
  
It may have taken Stan a little longer than usual to unlock the doors. His sight had gotten momentarily blurry for no reason. 


	87. Chapter 87

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> from the prompt
> 
> dipper shaming

“I don’t think this is going to do anything Mabel. He’s really out of it now.”

“No Henry, this is going to be great, trust me.”

“Mabel, your brother is literally drooling golden spit right now and his tongue is-“

“OH MY GOD HE’S BLEPPING”

“-um, yeah. But what is this going to really accomplish?” Mabel put the finishing touches on a small sign that read “I brought home an artifact of unimaginable might and let the babies play with it.”

“Nothing now,” she conceded as she propped the sign next to a stoned Dipper and said object of unimaginable might, the Mace of a Thousand Blood Nights.

Mabel whipped out her trusty Polaroid camera.

“It’ll be worth it when he sobers up though.”

(Judging by the look on Dipper’s face three hours later, Henry had to admit that Mabel had a point)


	88. the deal

“Acacia honey, it’s time to go to bed. You’re…I don’t know, growing and shi-stuff.”

Acacia continued to color on the floor, blithely ignoring her Grunkle Stan. It was only the two of them this weekend; Mabel and Henry had taken the other two kids down to Piedmont to see their grandparents. Like every other time they tried to reconcile with Mark and Anna, it was probably going to end in tears. Stan could both see why they tried but also didn’t really get it. Dipper was accompanying Mabel’s friend, Pacifica, to a weekend getaway in Los Angeles (Stan had been impressed by her payment, which was enough chocolate bars to fill up the old chest freezer downstairs) and wouldn’t be at home.

Point was, Acacia had to stay back as she had a nasty case of pink eye.

And, Stan marveled at this, they trusted him to take care of a six year old on his own the entire weekend.

That meant, even though Stan didn’t really get it himself, that Acacia went to bed on time, like Mabel had drilled into his head before they had left.

“Kid, its 8:30, time to get up and go to bed.”

“ _Grunkle Staaaan_  it’s Friday! Can I stay up one time please? And, and I won’t tell Mommy or Daddy!” She gave him her most winningest, gap toothed smile and Stan was pretty swayed for a second.

But Mabel was absolutely terrifying when she was angry, so Stan only shook his head, and got up to get Acacia.

“No dice kid, sorry,” he said as he scooped her up in his arms, and began to walk to the stairs to the attic.

“But why?”

“Because your mom said so.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s good for you.”

“Why?”

Stan groaned. “Look kid, when you’re older you can make your own damn rules, but for now you need to listen to your elders-“

A sly look came on to his niece’s face.

“You just don’t want me to see you fall asleep on the couch. You don’t want me to beat you at staying up.”

Oh.

Hell.

No.

He froze mid-step and Acacia had the biggest shit eating grin on her face, showing off her newly acquired braces. Stan moved her around in his hands until he had her at arms’ length, looking straight into her face.

“So you think you can stay up later than me eh?”

Acacia rolled her eyes in a move she learned from Wendy. “Duh.”

He placed her gently down on the stairs two or three steps above him, and knelt down as best as he could get on her level.

“Okay, you, me, contest, tonight. I win, you don’t complain about bed time again-“

“That’s too big.”

This is what happens, Stan thought, when your nephew is a demon.

“Okay fine, I win, you give up dessert for a month.”

Acacia furrowed her brow. “And what do I get if I win?”

“Double dessert for a month.”

Acacia barked a laugh out. “Okay, it’s on.”

She paused.

“Can I go to the bathroom first?”

Stan laughed.

“Sure kid, I’ll pop some popcorn.”

—

Acacia came down a second later to find Stan in the recliner, a gallon bucket of popcorn by his side, clicker near him, and a blanket big enough for the two of them. Acacia clambered onto his lap, and Stan winced as her knees and elbows poked him until she found a position she was comfortable in and settled down.

“How we gonna do this?” Acacia, well versed in wheeling and dealing, asked with a final fidget.

“We take turns picking shows to watch until one of us falls asleep.”

“Can I go first?”

“No.”

“Why not? Scared I’m going to beat you?”

In response, Stan shoved the clicker at his niece.

“Do your worse kid.”

Her worse turned out to be  _Huggy Fun Time Love Heart Extravaganza_ , a show that not even the kids had watched since they were three.

The bright colors and sounds coming from the TV both hurt Stan’s soul but were so abrasive that he felt instantly awake again.

“Nice try kid,” he said during a commercial break, and tousled her hair.  

—

“What is this?” Acacia asked, as Stan turned it to his favorite channel.

“The Black and White Period Piece Old Lady Movie Channel,” Stan said smugly.

“ _NOOOOOO!_  You can’t pick a movie, that’s not fair!”

“Should have said that before we started,” Stan crowed, way too proud to have pulled one over on a six year old.

“Up next,  _‘Big Dresses, Bigger Hair!_ ’” the TV announced, and Acacia let out another anguished cry of despair.

—

“That….was so pretty,” Acacia said two hours later.

“I know,” Stan sniffed.

“I liked when Gertrude McSwonhaddle wore her ka…kit..”

“Cotillion gown?”

“Yeah, that one.”

—

For Acacia’s turn she turned it to “ _Law and Order: Super Intense Crime Unit.”_

“Kid, this show is going to give you nightmares.”

Acacia puffed her little chest out. “Nuh-uh.”

“Also pretty sure your parents wouldn’t want you seeing this.”

“Bet they don’t want you to get in staying up contests with me either,” acacia retorted, and Stan felt the particular sting of getting burned by someone decades younger than him.

“Fine,” he grunted as he reached for a fistful of popcorn. “Don’t come crying to me if it’s too scary.”

Besides, he thought to himself, this was going to be like, ninety percent boring court stuff. Sure to put her to sleep.

The episode opened, and immediately the criminal of the week began dismembering her victim, the camera almost lovingly looking at each blood spurt, each organ brought out in the open.

Acacia buried her face in Stan’s shirt after two minutes.

“You aren’t getting sleepy are you?” Stan teased, but he got no response. It was only then he noticed that she was shaking like a leaf in the wind in his arms and there was a small wet spot where her face hit his shirt.

Stan knew his niece had her pride, and said nothing, only holding her a little tighter and

“Oops. I um, accidentally hit the remote. Looks like it’s on Nickelodeon now.”

She sniffed, but turned back around.

“It’s okay Grunkle Stan,” she said, “We can keep it on here.”

—

They were half way through “ _Away With The Gale_ ” (four hours with commercials and if his niece was still up at the end of this movie Stan would eat his fez) when Acacia asked, “What was your grandma like?”

“Nice.”

“Grunkle Staaaaan!”

It….it had been too long since he had thought about his grandmother. About his family, aunts and uncles and cousins and his parents….

He was vividly aware, holding his great-grandniece, that Mark, and then Mabel and Dipper, had been raised in a bubble, in a way. Generations of Pines history and stories that he and…and Stanley had been brought up with, took for granted, hadn’t passed his lips, hadn’t been thought of for almost sixty years.

When he passed, all of that would go with him. And while he didn’t feel that lack of support in his life…

Acacia was looking at him. Waiting.

“Did you know my Bubbe Miriam was like your sister?” he finally said, relaxing into the chair.

“She saw colors?!”

“Nah, she didn’t see those, but she could always tell when I was lying.”

_“No way!”_

—

The last thing Stan remembered, he was watching multicolored anthropomorphic animals dance across the screen.

The next he was stirring awake on the recliner, Acacia drooling on him, and…

And…

And….

Oh fuck.

He had lost, hadn’t he?

And yup, Acacia was stirring to wakefulness in his arms, and even still half asleep, the kid managed to give him a massive shit eating grin.

“ _I WON!”_  she shouted in his ear and oh God it was way too early for this.

“You sure about that?” he asked because he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

A look that smug did not belong on the face of a six year old.

“I made a deal with Uncle Dipper to make sure you fell asleep by two,” Acacia crowed.

“You  _what?_ When?!”

“When I went to the bathroom last night!” Acacia cheerfully explained. “I said his name into the mirror in the dark three times like he told me to do!”

That was really creepy, and he should probably say something to Dipper about that.

Acacia went on. “I had to give him all of my dessert for the next month to get him to do it though, but it’s okay.”

“Acacia, you just gave up what you’re winning from this, that’s a terrible deal sweetheart,” Stan gently explained.

She looked at him like he had a booger hanging from his nose.

“It’s not though.”

“Oh?”

“Cause-,” Acacia took in a deep breath.

“Nothing tastes better than  _winning!”_ she yelled at the top of her lungs, then fell off his lap and collapsed on the floor rolling around and laughing hysterically.

Stan looked at her in shock.

He just got played like a fiddle by his grand-niece.

His six year old great-grandniece.

He wasn’t sure if he felt more proud or horrified.

Stan decided to go with proud.

“Alright, alright, you won, sheesh. Now do you want pancake or are you going to keep collecting dust down there?”


	89. Chapter 89

“Mommy?”

Mabel looked up from her knitting to see Hank clambering onto the couch with her. She set aside her knitting, and pulled him onto her lap.

“What’s up Hank-sauce?” Mabel asked her son, running a hand through his thick, curly hair. She still couldn’t help but marvel how much he seemed to have grown, along with his sisters, in these last few months. She was only a head taller than her son now. 

Personally, she blamed Henry’s moose genes.

“What was Uncle Dipper like when you were our age?”

Mabel must have inadvertently given him an odd look because Hank went on. “It’s for class tomorrow. Miss Taney told us we need to ask our mom and dad what they were like when they were seven. Acacia has Dad and Willow got Uncle Dipper, and then we’re going to ask Grunkle Stan after that.”

Mabel smiled, wondering what Miss Taney was going to make of kids with four parents.

“Well….he never took a shower,” she said. “Or a bath.”

Hank’s eyes popped open.

“Really?!”

“Oh yeah, Grandma Pines had to wrestle him into the bathroom sometimes,” Mabel said with relish, knowing that Dipper would be losing it if he could hear her right now.

“So…he doesn’t do what he does now?”

“What do you mean Hank?”

“We were playing in the mu-outside yesterday, and Uncle Dipper played with us, and when he took us inside to get in the bath and we asked him if he needed one too, he said he didn’t and-” 

Hank took a breath.

“-and he snapped his fingers and he was clean again and he said who needs baths when you have snaps?”

Mabel rubbed her chin thoughtfully.

“He did, did he?” she said in her special plotting voice.

——

This was how two hours later, Dipper stepped out onto the front lawn of the Shack, only to have his sister fling a massive bucket of water at him, followed by his niblings running at him howling like banshees and brandishing water guns.

Luckily, Dipper thought as he took off his hat and began to rummage through it, _he_  had water balloons.


	90. Chapter 90

Mabel didn’t often get upset at the kids, but when she did, she was loud and furious enough that Dipper usually took refuge in another part of the house to avoid the spillover.

He was taking refuge in the kitchen, corporeal as to get into a tub of ice cream Mabel had gotten for him when Stan came in.

“What’d the kids do this time?” his grand-uncle asked gruffly, reaching in a cabinet for the whisky bottle. He winced as he stood up and Dipper made a note to himself to do something for the old man’s joints.

“They lit their counsellor, Mrs. Stamp’s, desk on fire.”

Stan didn’t spit his drink out because that would have been, as he put it, “alcohol abuse” but it was pretty close.

“Acacia heard on the playground that Mrs. Stamp was thinking of seperating the three of them and putting Willow into the MagEd class, so she talked Hank into making a distraction with her while Willow went in and sneezed all over the desk.”

Stan whistled appreciatively, then remembered that he probably shouldn’t encourage this type of thing.

He shook his head. “That girl gets the three of them in trouble once a week, just like your grandfather.”

Dipper froze slightly and took a quick peek at the emptier than he thought bottle of whisky. Even now, after everything had come into the open, Grunkle Stan rarely talked about his brother.

His grandfather.

Stan meanwhile stared off into the distance. “Nothing Lee loved more than stirring the pot when we were that age. The number of black eyes and broke noses I got following him…” 

He barked out a laugh and took another drink.

“Trouble from the day he was born.”

Dipper didn’t want to interrupt but he couldn’t help himself at this point. “And you weren’t?”

Stan smirked. “Watch that mouth of yours kid,” he said but there was no heat behind it and Dipper smiled. 

They both winced at a particularly loud “Acacia Ruth!” from the other room.

Stan sighed. “I should have given Acacia the talk our dad gave Stanley long before this.” He caught the look Dipper gave him. “Something about being how if people listen to you, it’s your job to not lead them into trouble.”

He took another swig of whisky. “She can talk them into anything, and that’s the problem.”

“They don’t have to listen,” Dipper said, playing devils advocate.

“And Mabel never talked you into doing anything stupid?” Stan retorted, raising an eyebrow.

Dipper decided now would be a good time to change the subject.


	91. Chapter 91

“I’m nervous.”

“I’m not.”

Hank looked over at his girlfriend of two months.

“Really?”

Vivienne turned from looking out the passenger window as they drove through Hank’s home town to look at her boyfriend.

She laid a hand on his as he steered the truck by a log shaped diner.

“You’re a good guy Hank, and your sisters are great too. And I’ve never heard you say a bad thing about your parents or uncles. Why would I be nervous?”

Hank said nothing which was probably for the best because he was a terrible liar.

Vivi wasn’t stupid. She knew there was something  _odd_ , for lack of a better term, about Hank’s home life. 

It wasn’t even that his sister got fucking kidnapped and had an eye taken out.

No, it was fond tales of growing up mixed with slight pauses, stories that started but then ended in “oh no brain fart!” or “crap I forgot the rest.” She knew he had two uncles that lived with him growing up and helped raise him and his sisters, but he always spoke of one of them, Dipper, with both fondness and a slight hesitation.

She wasn’t nervous. Vivi had a feeling that his family was going to be absolutely lovely.

Honestly, she was more excited to finally figure out what the deal was.

They drove through the woods for awhile, and finally pulled up to one of the oddest homes Vivi had ever seen.

It was a large, rickety log cabin that had both gone through multiple rounds of futile repairs and looked like it was about to fall apart. There were one or two clear additions into the house, vinyl siding and brick in glaring contrast to the rest of the house. There was a massive sign on the roof that read “MYSTERY HACK”, and a smaller hand painted sign that read “Stanley Pines Memorial library of the Supernatural” tacked on below it. There was an honest to goodness totem pole out front, a truck that was even more beat to shit than Hank’s, and a goat.

It looked like a good wind would blow the whole thing down and Vivienne was in love.

As they got out of the truck, the front screen door slammed open, and a brown haired, hot pink blur ran out and slammed into Hank.

Hank oofed and picked up the woman Vivi was guessing was his mother, making her squeal.

“HANK!”

He smiled. “Hi mom,” he said, and twirled her around a few times before putting her down.

Mrs. Pines wobbled with dizziness for a minute and then flopped to the ground.

“I love having moose kids,” she murmured to the sky.

“They do that every time he comes home,” said another voice from the door. Vivienne looked up to see a middle aged man, who with his red hair and massive tallness could only be Hank’s dad. He walked over to them, pulled his giggling wife upright, and held a hand out for Vivi to shake.

“Vivienne Chen, but please call me Vivi.”

“I’m Henry,” he said as they shook. “And it is so nice to finally meet you; Hank’s been talking about you for the last five months.”

“Oh? That’s funny, we’ve been only going out for two,” Vivi said smiling, knowing behind her Hank was currently as red as his hair. That was the sweetest thing she had ever heard.

Hank’s mother barked out a laugh, and Vivi turned to her. She was the first person outside of her own family Vivienne had ever met who was shorter than her (albeit by an inch or two) and she was wearing, among other things, three slap bracelets, light up sneakers, seventeen bangles on her right wrist, donuts for earrings, and a sweater that read “BAWOOOGA” in neon green letters on a hot pink background.

A hand shot out from the depths of one sleeve. “Hi I’m Mabel and I’m Hank’s mom and OH MY GOSH where did you get your dress it’s SO cool!!!”

Vivi looked down at her dress, black with little cherries and skulls patterned on top.

“Pin-Up Girl in Corvallis; maybe we could go shopping together there next time you come?” Vivi suggested, a little shyly.

“CAN WE?!?!” Mrs. Pines looked like she was about to explode from sheer delight and it was the cutest thing ever.

Mr. Pines gently tapped his wife on the shoulder.

“Maybe we can go inside? I’m sure Stan and Dipper would like to meet Vivi too,” he suggested.

Hank’s mom, Vivi discovered as Mrs. Pines grabbed one of her hands and began to pull her towards the house, was built like a brickhouse .

———-

Hank’s sisters were already inside when they got in. Acacia was throwing pistachios at Willow, who was shooting little bursts of flame and burning them midair before they could hit her.

Now Hank’s sisters, Vivi had been a little intimidated to meet. She had had a pair of cousins who were twins and they had been super close, so she couldn’t even imagine what it was like with triplets.

And more than the missing eye in Vivienne’s mind were the tiny scars all over Acacia’s hands and arms, a crooked nose, a weight in her breast pocket that all bespoke of someone who fought regularly. And while Vivienne certainly had no problem with Sighted people, Willow had stared at her for two minutes straight the first time they had met. It had felt like Hank’s little sister was scouring her soul, looking at her from the inside out.

But that had been two months ago, so instead her and Mrs. Pines simultaneously decided to take advantage of the distraction Hank’s entrance had offered to sneak some nuts from the bag and throw them at Acacia.

Willow and Hank burst into laughter at the look on Acacia’s face and a gruff voice from the living room cried, “Bring me the object of mockery!”

“That’s Grunkle Stan!” Acacia told Vivi, and ran into the living room, with everyone else but Vivienne and Hank following at a slightly more sedate pace.

Hank held back, a worried look on his face.

Vivi leaned up as best as she could to give him a smooch (it landed on his chest.)

“Trust me,” she said, and took him by the hand to take him into the living room.

———

There were two men in the other room with everyone else, sitting in front of a positively ancient TV.

The older of the two looked up as Vivi stepped in.

“This her?” he said gruffly. He had a heavy five o'clock shadow and thick glasses, and was wearing a wife beater, boxers, and-

Vivi couldn’t believe her eyes, but indeed, that was a red fez perched on the old man’s head.

She now wanted that fez more than anything else in the world.

Acacia elbowed the man and he held out a calloused hand. “Stan Pines,” he said with no small amount of ill humor.

“Vivienne Chen. Can I steal your fez?”

“No.”

“What if I give you five bucks?”

Stan looked at her intently for another minute and then laughed.

“ _Hah!_  Still can’t have it, but ten and you can wear it at dinner.”

“Seven.”

“Eight.”

Vivi narrowed her eyes. “Eight but I get to start wearing it now.”

“Deal!” Money and fez were quickly exchanged and the older man settled back into the recliner.

“Call me Grunkle Stan,” he said, eyes not leaving the TV, “everyone else does.”

“So you’re Hank’s girlfriend?” the other man asked. He had fluffy brown hair, was dressed in a collared shirt and black slacks, and was sitting in the corner, which was darker than the rest of the room (and suddenly Vivi couldn’t shake the feeling that the man had done this on purpose)

It felt like everyone else in the room was holding their breath, the atmosphere balanced on a razor’s edge, and Vivi could never stand that kind of tension (that kind of bullshit) so she walked over to who had to be Hank’s Uncle Dipper and held out a hand.

“I’m Vivienne,” she said. “Are you Hank’s other uncle or a hobo they let in?”

Dipper didn’t take her hand, only gave a nasty grin and revealed a mouth full of-oh.

Oh fuck were those fangs?

“Nope. Ju̕st͟ t͠h͞e fa̷m̢il̨ _ý de̛m̷o͞n.”_

Behind her, Vivienne heard an inrush of breath and knew that at any second, Mrs. Pines or Hank were going to say something.

She appreciated it, but Vivienne could take care of these kind of things herself. Before anyone else could get a word in, Vivi raised an eyebrow and said, “Okay, but are you going to shake my hand or leave me hanging?”

Dipper burst out laughing, and while his eyes flickered from brown and white to gold and black, and the fangs stayed, the atmosphere around him lightened. He took her hand, being careful not to prick her with his claws.

“Dipper. Nice to meet you at last; Hank hasn’t stopped telling Mabel about you for the last three months.”

Vivi smiled and held on to Dipper’s hand, refusing to let go, even after a slightly confused look came onto Dipper’s face. 

“Do you do that for every partner of Hank’s that comes by?”

The blood drained from Dipper’s face and if Vivi were to look behind her she would have seen a massive and wicked grin on Mabel’s face.

Dipper rallied and said defensively, “Sometimes yes because-”

“Because nothing. That’s a shitty thing to do and you know it.”

The room went completely silent again, as Vivienne stared Hank’s uncle in the eyes, daring him to come up with an excuse.

Finally, Dipper blinked and asked, “What are you in school for again?”

Vivienne grinned and let it go. She knew that Mrs. Pines was probably going to rip Dipper a new asshole later, and he seemed to be genuinely contrite, so she could go with the change of subject. 

“I’m going to be a kindergarten teacher.”

Dipper smiled, close lipped this time. “You’re going to be excellent at it,” he said. Dipper then snapped and a top hat appeared floating over his head. He reached up and grabbed it, pulling it down and beginning to rummage through it.

“Wanna see embarrassing baby pictures of Hank?” Dipper asked, breaking the solemn mood.

“Um,  _of course!”_  Vivi cried as Dipper pulled out a massive album.

“I don’t find those pictures embarrassing,” Hank pointed out but was happily ignored.

———

“I’m sorry about Uncle Dipper,” Hank said in bed, or more accurately, in the air mattress that night. 

“Why? You shouldn’t be,” Vivi sleepily murmured into Hank’s back.

Hank said nothing, only held her hand tighter.

“He apologized so it’s cool man. Also, I heard your mom yelling at him from three rooms away and there is nothing I can do to beat that.”

Still Hank was silent, so she leaned up in bed to whisper in his ear.

“I told you you could trust me, and I meant it.”

She thought about it for a second longer, what having a literal demon for a relative would actually mean.

Thought about the suspicion and sadness she had seen warring in Dipper’s eyes briefly, how many partners would have run away.

How many people had run away from Hank and his family.

“But, thank you. For trusting me,”

She smooched him on the cheek and felt under her lips his face move into a grin.

They were silent in the dark for another moment, and then Vivienne asked, “What do you think I’d have to do to wear his hat?”


	92. Chapter 92

Dakore looked down to where the water moccasin had sunk it’s fangs into her foot, unseen despite her best efforts.

She could feel the venom course in her veins, her chest tighten, her throat begin to close and-

Was that… was that the sound of….a sheep?

The absurdity of that sound broke Dakore out of her nightmare and she sat up in bed.

She looked for reassurance to the dreamcatcher her pen pal in Manitoba, Sylvia, had sent her.

There was a sheep caught in its strands.  

More accurately, a tiny sheep that could fit her hand, with black wool and the littlest curved horns, was caught in her dreamcatcher.

Really, if she was going to be completely accurate, there was a tiny sheep caught in her dreamcatcher who was attended by a man floating alongside with brown hair and what looked like buttwings.

The little sheep bleated, but it was so tiny that instead of a baa, it was more of a meep sound.

“ m͝e̴ep͠ ”

“Look, I’m going as fast as I can; my fingers keep getting stuck too, you know.”

“ me̷ee͢eep̴ .”

“Hey man, this is all your fault. This is like what, the fifth time this month?”

“ m͘e̡ep̢ ”

“‘I am a helpless tiny bundle of love?’ Did Mabel teach you that? She did didn’t she?”

“ m̛e͡e͟e͟ee͢ep”

The floating man looked down to see Dakore staring at the two of them. He glared at the sheep and sighed.

“Of course you were giving a nightmare to someone with the Sight, because this night couldn’t get any better.”

“He…." 

Dakore’s voice stuck in her throat and she tried again. "That critter gave me the snake nightmare.”

“Yup,” the floating man said as his fingers once again got tangled in the strings that Sylvia had woven on the willow hoop. He looked at her expectantly for a minute, and Dakore got the feeling from him that he wanted nothing more than to spend twenty minutes explaining who he was and why he and the sheep were here, if only she would ask.

Dakore was way too zonked to do that.

What she did do, however, was stand up on her bed, to reach the dreamcatcher hanging from the ceiling.  Her hands went through the floating man, eliciting sputters from him, and went to the little sheep.

As gently as she could, she closed her right hand around the sheep, and with the other pried open the strings holding him there. Dakore pulled him out and once he was free opened her hand again.

Instead of flying out to the man, to her surprise he stayed on her hand and began to butt his head between her fingers, rubbing his horns against her index finger and thumb and purring.

Dakore was pretty sure sheep didn’t purr, but then again, they usually weren’t only three inches tall and she was still pretty sleepy so whatever.

“I…I…I owe you a f͢a̧v̢o͝r̀,” the man managed to finally spit out, like the words were completely repugnant to him.

“Nah you don’t,” Dakore absently said as she dared to begin petting the small sheep. His wool was amazingly soft and he purred harder.

“Yes I do I-look doesn’t  _any_  of this strike you as kind of strange?”

Dakore didn’t look up from giving the sheep pets. “Nope.”

“I’m a demon!”

“Okay, that’s cool I guess.”

“I am A͝ĺc͡or! T͟h҉e Dre͘a͞m͡b͠e̷nde̴r?͠ ͝Eat͢er͏ of ̵S҉o͢u҉l͝s, R̕ul͏e̡r of̛ Nig̀h͘t͜ma͞re͘s̨?”

Dakore shrugged. 

“What’s his name?” she asked, pointing to the sheep in her hand.

“Fluffernutter, but seriously, how are you not freaking the fuck out?”

“I’ll probably freak out after I have my first cup of coffee,” Dakore replied and was rewarded with the sight of Alcor’s jaw dropping wide, revealing double rows of fangs inside.

Finally, he managed to say, “Look, you did me a favor and now I ow͞è you one in return.”

“Can’t really think of anything right now,” Dakore said. She really wanted to go back to sleep; her alarm was going to go off in a few hours.

“I can’t! Not until I repay you….that’s, kind of how this demon thing works.”

Fluffernutter rolled over onto his back in her hands, showing his stomach and wiggling his tiny legs in the air and Dakore had an idea.

“Can I see Fluffernutter again? If….if he’s okay with it?”

_“That’s it?”_

Dakore scowled at him. “Wow, that’s kind of rude to say.”

Alcor looked at her for a minute and even through the haze of sleepiness, Dakore could feel the danger rolling off of him. For a second she was back in her dream again, the venom, the inability to breathe….

Then he laughed and broke the mood.

“Sure, that works. Have fun you two.”

As suddenly as he crashed into her life he was gone, though now the room smelt like pine trees for some reason. 

Fluffernutter looked at her.

“ m̵ee͜ee͝ep̀?̶”

"I need to go to sleep, but let me take that dreamcatcher down so you can come in….um, no more nightmares tonight, right?”

“ me̶ee͢p”

"Okay cool.”

Once a month for the rest of Dakore’s life, she had horrible nightmares of snakes biting her, squeezing the life out of her.

And every time she woke up smiling to see her tiny friend waiting for her at the foot of her bed.


	93. Chapter 93

“Got your bucket Hank?”

Standing next to him in the field a small distance from the Shack, Stan’s nephew gave him a massive gap toothed grin.

“Yes Grunkle Stan.”

“And what are you gonna pick?”

“Elderberries….can we eat them?”

“Um, didn’t exactly plan on  _eating_  them. And what else are you going to look for?”

“The snipe!”

Hank paused.

“Grunkle Stan, what does a snipe look like again?”

Stan waggled his hands even as he settled into the folding garden chair he had brought with him on this trip.

“It’s kind of green and scaly and furry and brown and it has legs and look kid, you’ll know it when you see it.”

“Okay Grunkle Stan!” Hank ran off into the field, and Stan settled in for a nice afternoon in the sun with some back issues of  _Fully Clothed Women._

Some would perhaps say that it wasn’t nice or good to both fool a six year old into a wild goose chase. Or use said six year old to gather berries you were going to use to make moonshine in the basement.

On the other hand, as much as he loved his nieces and nephews, it was hard being over sixty and constantly having to deal with three rambunctious small children.

Also unlike his sisters, Hank was a little gullible, so Stan could play the best tricks on him. Acacia….Acacia was a little too like him (worryingly so at times) to pull that shit on her.

Willow he hadn’t even bothered since last year when she looked at him, pupils blown, and let Stan know that “You turn brown when you lie Grunkle Stan.”

Hank on the other hand, believed everything that came out of Stan’s mouth, and while he tried not to betray that trust too much, sometimes he couldn’t help but fuck with the kid.

Like today, when it was just him and Hank. Mabel and the girls were safely out doing girl things like their nails or monster hunting with Mabel, and Henry and Dipper were occupied with fixing the truck yet again.  

Besides, it wasn’t going to hurt the kid to keep an extra eye out for critters in the field.

“Grunkle Stan?!” Hank cried out from by the fence.

“What Hank?”

“Will a snipe eat me?”

“No Hank, snipes just bite you until you swell up and explode,” Stan cried back, and returned to reading his magazine.

He never thought in a million years that he would actually be raising kids.

Well,  _helping_ to raise them, but considering they all lived in the same house, it was pretty much the same thing.

Point was, he had spent the past thirty years before Mabel and Dipper had come into his life making beer can pyramids in the living room, clipping his toenails at the kitchen table, and occasionally breaking half the bones in someone’s body and sending them to the hospital for a year.

He had never had to change a diaper (let alone a truck load of diapers), or stayed up half the night with a sick toddler, or got into the ‘why’ loop with a kindergartener.

Never held tiny hands in his own, and guided them through their first steps.

Never had small faces look up at him with complete and utter trust in their eyes.

Stan looked up from his magazine, to see a bright curly red head popping in and out of the elderberry bushes.

“Doing okay kid?”

“Half my bucket’s full!”

“Keep looking Hank, I need a whole bucket for liqu-stuff,”

“Okay!” Hank disappeared into the bushes again.

Stan looked back down to his magazine but didn’t really see the words, lost in his own thoughts.

He never thought he would be a grandfather.

Well. Technically a great-great grand uncle, but Mark was only around occasionally and in California to boot, if he ever saw Arnold on his property he would get his shotgun out and Stanley….

Stanley was long gone.

It terrified him, the trust that not just the kids, but Mabel and Henry and Dipper had in him.

He didn’t deserve their trust, their love, Stan knew that like he knew the back of his hands.

And Dipper and Mabel thought finding his box of fakes was bad. Hah! If they had any idea of even a fourth of what he had done in his life the-

“GRUNKLE STAN!”

His head shot up to see Hank running for him at full speed, being chased by something large with lots of legs and green and brown and scaly and furry and -

No.

No fucking way.

“I found the snipe!” Hank cried as he launched himself into Stan’s arms.

“Yeah, I can see Hank,” Stan grunted under the weight of his nephew as he turned and ran for the car.

“He’s gaining on us!” Hank cried and Stan’s heart constricted, not just from the effort of running and carrying a six year old boy who was already over four feet tall, but at the fear he heard in Hank’s voice.

“Are we going to get eaten?” Hank asked as Stan got to the car and unceremoniously chucked him in the back seat.

Stan reached under the driver’s seat to get the shotgun he kept there.

“Not today Hank, not today.”

Hank grinned at Stan.

“You’re the coolest, Grunkle Stan,” Hank said, and then buckled his seat belt like they had taught him to.

Well.

Fuck.

Since he had to live up to that, Stan turned to the approaching snipe and yelled “Not today you weird leg monster thing!”

He had said better one liners before, but the nice thing about six year olds was that they were easy to impress.

 

 


	94. Chapter 94

Stan was getting way too old for this shit, and yet life seemed to enjoy fucking with him.

The day had started off so normally too. He had spent the morning driving Soos and Melody to the small airport in Eugene so they could catch their flight to their honeymoon in Key West. Willow had gone with him at Mabel’s insistence, to “keep him company” and even though Stan had protested that he wasn’t so ancient that he needed a minder in the car with him, he had to admit it was nice to have his niece with him.

Willow for the most part was content to happily stare out of the window and tell him about all the dryads and forest spirits they passed by that only she could see.

Stan didn’t remember being that easily amused at seven, but he wasn’t going to complain.

No, the trouble had started when they pulled off at an empty rest stop in the woods for Willow to use the bathroom. Even ten years ago Stan would have driven on by, but Stan from ten years ago didn’t have a little girl who had been holding it for an hour to deal with.

He was leaning against the car, waiting for Willow to get done when suddenly he heard her scream from within the bathroom and before he could run to her two heavy hands had landed on his shoulders.

No one had gotten the drop on him in about twenty years, he was getting slow, getting  _old_ -

(Part of him reminded himself that he used to have Ruth and Stanley to watch his back. A nastier part countered that he had lived longer without them in his life than with them in it.)

He managed to kick backwards and have his foot connect to something soft and squishy and behind him he heard a man’s voice groan and one of the hands fell away from him. He spun and hit the other man in the knee with his brass knuckles.

But now that he was facing his attackers he could see that there were-fuck, fuck,  _fuck_ -six other men and women, all armed for bear coming his way.

From the bathroom he heard a man scream.

“Little bitch  _burned_  me-“

Stan couldn’t help but smile that Willow was taking care of herself before a cloth hit his nose and the world went black.

He woke up to the sound of sobbing, small, choked sobs and for a terrible second he flashed back to the day he saw his niece making those same sounds, a hat in her hands but no, no that had already happened.

Stan cracked his eyes open to see where they were, but before he could really check out his surroundings, Willow had launched herself at him, like a baby giraffe trying to drink water for the first time, all limbs and elbows. She didn’t make a sound as she burrowed her face into his shirt, but her tears leaked onto his front, wet and hot.

He absent mindedly stroked her hair as he cased the room. It was lit by a blue fire fueled by Willow’s hoodie-clever, clever girl. In the flickering light he could see a door that had no handle, and arcane symbols daubed and scrawled all over the walls.

God, he hoped this wasn’t another god damn cult.

Willow started to hiccup and he clucked her under the chin.

“Breathe sweetie.”

“Gru- _hic­-_ Grunkle Stan…the walls, the- _hic­_ \- the walls are all  _red_  and…and…”

She began to cry harder, and Stan held on to her tighter and promised to himself that if he couldn’t kill the sons of bitches that had put them in here, he would at least make them regret it for the rest of their lives.

“I can’t hear Uncle Dipper!” Willow cried into his shirt, snot dripping from his nose.

“Um, what?”

Willow looked up at him, the anguish on her face something he never wanted to see on someone as young as her.

“Grunkle Stan they did something to the walls that makes them all red and flashy green and Uncle Dipper can’t hear us or see us, and I can’t talk to him and, and-“

She began to hiccup again, and Stan gently patted her back.

“You got your inhaler darling?” he asked as gently as he could.

“N-no, it’s in the car,” Willow said in between struggling to catch her breath.

Good, Stan thought. If there was one thing that could get Dipper through any barrier, any block, was one of the kids being in danger. They had found that out the hard way after Acacia had fallen out of a tree and broke her arm last year, and suddenly half the forest had been on fire as Dipper came blazing into reality….

And if getting Willow to safety meant encouraging the conditions for her to have an asthma attack, to hope that her shortness of breath would tug on the link between her and Dipper to get Willow the fuck out of this place, then Stan would do it.

He was a monster, Stan knew that, hated himself for even thinking about spurring his niece towards something that could kill her in order to save her.

Stan could save the self-loathing for later however.

He had been making these kind of decisions since he was ten.

Besides, that was the option of last resort, so Stan turned his mind to thinking of other ways to get the fuck out of this pit.  

“What can you see Will?” he asked as gently as he could.

Willow buried her face deeper in his shirt and fuck,  _fuck_  he hated what he was about to do but it needed to be done….

“Honey, I can’t see the same shi-things you do. I need to know what’s the deal with this place so we can get out.”

Willow began to shake, but, brave girl, she lifted her head out of his shirt and looked around the room.

One minute passed, then two, Willow still in his arms. Finally, Stan coughed and said, “Um…everything okay kid?”

Willow twisted to look at Stan in the eyes, and he almost recoiled from what he saw in them (and he did that, that was all him right there-)

“We’re gonna die here,” she said simply, matter of fact, and Stan felt sick to his stomach.

She pointed to a spot on the wall that Stan realized was blood splatters. “That’s from the last people who were here, it came from their tummy after the monster ripped it out-“

“Monster?”

“She’ll come through the door to eat us; the scared people send her in and she eats whoever they have here, and then she’ll wear our face out-“

Willow pointed to another part of the wall. “That’s where she ate a scared person my age. They weren’t slow in getting her food again.”

If there was a hell, Stan was going to it, she was only seven…

“The monster’s camped in the scared people’s town, and she makes them get her food and that’s why they got us.” Willow dragged a finger on the floor next to them. “I can see her left over colors….she likes making them scared as much as she likes eating people and she likes how scared people get in here before she gets them.”

Her finger stopped moving and Willow stiffened in his arms.

“Can we move Grunkle Stan?”

He shuffled over as best he could a foot away.

“She ate someone’s eyes there,” Willow explained simply, “and I could taste it for a second.”

Something inside of Stan broke.

He hugged Willow tight to him and she buried her face back into his shirt again. This time she didn’t even bother to cry silently, letting out loud wails and dripping snot onto his front.

“Hey, we’re going to get out of this just fine, and you know why?”

Willow shook her head, not looking up.

“Because you got me!  _Hah,_ kid, I eat monsters for breakfast, lunch and dinner!”

“No you don’t, you eat Daddy’s food.”

Stan forced a grin onto his face. “That’s what  _you_  see.”

He clucked her under the chin. “Besides, you know what you have that no one else in here had?”

“What?”

“A grunkle! And fire. Nice burning fire.”

Willow looked at him askance.  
  
“I can’t make fire that big Grunkle Stan.”  
  
“You won’t need to! I got Stan’s little helper with me.”  
  
The look she gave him was so like the ones Dipper gave him when he only a little older than her that despite the situation he almost laughed. He curbed himself and checked his pockets and socks; thankfully those idiots didn’t frisk him outside of taking his knuckles…  
  
He fished out his Bowie knife from the holster hidden by his pants leg, and the flask of grain alcohol that had been in his pocket.  
  
“Ta-da!”  
  
Willow looked skeptically at his flask.  
  
“How is your happy juice going to help?”  
  
“Happy jui-”  
  
“That’s what Mommy calls it.”  
  
Stan unscrewed the flask.  
  
“Hold out your hand sweetie,” and Willow gave him her left hand. He poured a few drops on her open palm.  
  
“Now light em up.”  
  
Willow jumped when the tiny flame she had obviously been expecting bloomed a foot high. She looked back at Stan with wide eyes.  
  
 _“You drink that?!”_  
  
“Hey, don’t knock until you’ve tried it kid….when you’re older. Way older.”  
  
He pulled her in a little closer on his lap. “Now, this is what we’re going to do….”  
  
——–  
  
He had just gotten Willow to fall asleep next to him when of course he heard noises coming from outside the door. Stan nudged Willow gently awake so that when the door opened a minute later they were both on their feet.  
  
Willow’s small hand slipped into his and he squeezed it tightly.  
  
“We’re going to be okay Will, I promise,” Stan reassured her, even though the words were bitter in his mouth.  
  
The door opened long and wide enough for something to get through before shutting immediately again.  
  
By the light of Willow’s hoodie, the monster looked like an over large hyena, confirming Stan’s suspicions.  
  
She padded close to them, sniffing and snorting, and against his leg, Stan could feel Willow’s breathing to quicken and hitch.  
  
“Oh, _fighters_  are we?” the ghoul purred. “I love it when my mea-”  
  
Stan took advantage of the ghoul’s complacency and willingness to talk before action, and threw the entire contents of his flask onto the ghoul.  
  
Without having to be told, Willow thrust her hands out and lit the ghoul on fire. Fueled by the alcohol, the ghoul became quickly engulfed with flames.  
  
“A little more Willow!” Stan yelled and his niece complied, until the flames cut off from her palms and she fell back against him, panting and exhausted.  
  
The flames burned higher but suddenly the hyena stopped screaming and started laughing. Stan moved Willow behind him and got his knife ready.  
  
“Good try,” the ghoul chuckled, “really appreciate the effort. But this isn’t my only skin.”  
  
Her back suddenly curved in the opposite direction, throwing her front legs and head back towards the ground. She began to lengthen and grow, the skin bursting like overripe fruit and sloughing away, taking the fire from it. Two skeletal human like arms burst from her chest and began to peel off the hyena skin like unwanted clothes.  
  
Behind him, he felt Willow drop to her knees, leaning against his legs as she simultaneously sobbed from terror and struggled to catch her breath.

He gripped his knife tighter. Maybe Mabel or Henry could forgive the people of this town for acting out of fear, out of the desire to protect their families. But Stan wasn’t them, wasn’t as good as they were, and if they got out of this alive, he would be coming back with his black briefcase for putting his granddaughter through this hell…  
  
The ghoul emerged from her hyena skin, emaciated and corpse like. Her hair was lank and grey, eyes yellow and sunken into her skill, and she was covered in animal blood, the stench of rot rolling off of her in waves.  
  
She saw Willow on the ground next to Stan and her eyes widened.  
  
“ _Ohhhh._  One with the Sight. I haven’t eaten a meal this fine in such a long time. Her eyes will last me a long time. Shame she’s broken though; adds a sour flavor to the flesh, but I can work with that.”  
  
Before he could launch himself at the ghoul, he heard Willow suddenly begin to cough, felt her shake against him.  
  
He knelt down and gathered her into his arms, an eye and his knife still on the ghoul, who seemed smugly content to watch the scene play out for a minute, confident in her ability to kill them with ease.  
  
Willow was turning pale, her lips blue as the light flickering all around them and every tendon on her thin neck had popped into definition as she struggled to draw breath.  
  
“Oh  _good_ ,” the ghoul said. “That one will die soon; save me the effort of ki-”  
  
Dipper burst onto the scene.   
  
Literally, as he materialized from within the ghoul’s stomach. Her torso bulged for a second, her eyes widened in fear and pain, and then the room, Stan and Willow were covered in ghoul parts.  
  
Stan’s mind, in the way that minds wander at the worse moments, couldn’t help but point out that if Willow wasn’t completely messed up from what they had seen today, Dipper probably just made it a little worse.  
  
He looked at Dipper and it was like looking at Death himself. There was no expression on his face as the blood and bits of skin and organ dripped off of him and on to the floor. His eyes were blank, gold from rim to rim as he looked around the room. There was nothing human about Dipper now; he had gone void black and golden tracing, wings unfurled dark and terrible, and blue fire curled around him tightly.  
  
Stan could count on his hand the number of times he had been scared of his nephew, and this was one of them.  
  
Especially since he knew Dipper could see what he had done writ large all over him.  
  
A gasp from Willow broke the moment, and Dipper blipped to them, taking her into his arms. Dipper cradled Willow gently, and laid a hand burning with golden flame on her chest. His hand phased in, and Dipper started to take deep breaths, in, out, in, out. Willow, after an agonizing second began to breathe in time with her uncle.  
  
The color returned to her skin, her muscles relaxed and finally Dipper was able to take his hand away from Willow. As soon as she did, she wrapped her arms around her neck and began to sob brokenly, burying her face in his hair, in his neck, any place where she wouldn’t see the room around her. Stan could see her shaking even with his poor eyesight and the low lightHe rubbed circles on her back, stroked her hair, and then whispered something in her ear that Stan couldn’t make out.   
  
She pulled back to look Dipper in the eyes and then nodded. He placed his right index finger and thumb on her forehead between her eyes, and Willow immediately fell asleep. Dipper’s gloved fingers pressed harder into her skin for a minute and his face furrowed in concentration. Then he withdrew his hand from her forehead but trailing along his fingers were dark, nasty snarls of color, black and blood red. He crumpled them into a ball within his hand, then popped it into his mouth.

Dipper snapped and a blanket appeared on the floor, clean and soft and pink. He laid Willow on it and then laid his jacket over her.  
  
“Good job Little Fighter,” he heard Dipper say as he pressed a kiss to Willow’s brow.  
  
Then his nephew turned to him and the fires that had been banked low suddenly burst out large and furious around him. His anger made the air in the room thick and hard to breathe, and Stan’s heart skipped a beat.

“W̛ha͏t͢ ̴th̢ę _̡fu͘ck͜_  ͞d̶o͢ ̧yo͟u͟ ̛thi͝n̢k y̵ou͘ ̨w͏er̨e doi҉n͏g?” Dipper growled.

Stan dropped the knife, so Dipper could see that his hands were free, but resisted the urge to sit down. No matter how tired he was, if this was where he was going to die, he wanted to be on his feet, not on the ground.

He sighed, winced as his back protested that he had done way too much today and that whole ‘dying on your feet’ thing was great for when you were forty, not so much another thirty years later.

“What I had to Dipper.”

_“Wh̷a͠t y͢o͏u ̵ha͞d ̶t͠ơ-̴?!”_

“Kid, this room is covered in enough wards that we couldn’t reach out to you, that’s a steel door over there, and a bowie knife is going to do sweet fuck all against a ghoul.”

He thought for a minute. “Really thought burning it was going to do the trick though.”

“W̶i̴llow̢ ̡c̀ou̸ĺd͠ ͜h̵a̕v̡e  _d̸ied͝!”_

“She would have died if I let her get eaten by a ghoul too, what the  _fuck_  was I supposed to do Dipper?”

Dipper opened his mouth, shut it, opened it again. No words came out, and the black cast of his body began to fade away.

“I…I don’t know.”

He looked at Stan. “Why don’t you sit down you stubborn ass?”

Stan’s legs obeyed independent of his mind, and Dipper floated down and joined him against the wall. He leaned over and dragged the blanket with Willow on top a little closer to the two of them.

At Stan’s curious glance, Dipper said “I…didn’t take her memories of today. I couldn’t have done that without a deal and…no. But I blunted the worse edges off of them. She’ll remember this, but she won’t dwell on it and it won’t prey on her. It’ll be like-“ a bitter look passed his face “-a bad dream. Nothing more.”

Stan sighed.

“I trust you kid. And I know that you’ll come through for the girls or Hank any time they need you. So no, I don’t like what I did. But it needed to be done.”

Dipper just looked at him, complete confusion written on his face.

There was, despite all of what Dipper had done, despite what being a demon entailed, an innocence of sorts in his eyes.

And Dipper, despite what Stan had taught him all these years, could not comprehend the level of ruthlessness that Stan was dealing with.

Good.

He hoped Dipper stayed that way, never had to make the kind of decisions that he had had to make over and over again throughout his life. (Ruth had spoken with a raspy voice thanks to him, him and an emergency tracheotomy in a case gone bad many years ago-)

Stan sighed.

He wanted Dipper to stay that way.

But he knew deep down in his gut that there was no way for Dipper to do that.

Stan struggled to get up, but managed, despite the screams from his back, to pick Willow up.

“Take us home Dip; she needs her bed and I need a drink.”

“I think I need to join you on that one,” Dipper said shakily, and grabbed Stan’s hand to blip them home.


	95. Chapter 95

It felt like Mabel’s head was going to explode.

Or implode.

Honestly, she could barely even tell the difference any more in the midst of one of her rare migraines. 

And as much as she loved her family, they were Not Helping right now.

Especially with the constant running up and down stairs, the shrieks she heard between the girls above her, Hank constantly microwaving sponges to see what would happen, and Stan getting increasingly louder the longer he was on the phone placing bids on a book auction in Iowa.

There was a particularly loud crash from upstairs that sent jagged spikes into Mabel’s brain, and a tear leaked out on her pillow.

“Dipper. Dipper get here now please,” she mumbled into her pillow.

Dipper was at her side in a second. She peered at him and he was crackling with energy, obviously having come back from a large summons. 

Good. 

“Take the kids to the store please.”

“The store?”

“Or the playground or to see Soos, or wherever.”

Dipper frowned. This listlessness was unlike Mabel…but then he was hit with the orange waves of pain that was centered on her forehead.

Orange that spiked with every bump and holler from the triplets in the house.

“How about a deal? I’ll take the kids out to the store, get stuff for dinner, and in turn you let me eat that headache?”

“How is that a deal for you?”

“P͢ai͟n͟ ̡ìs d̷el͡icio͡u̸s̡!” he couldn’t help but trill, and Mabel  _really_  must have been out of it if that didn’t get a reaction out of her. 

“Cool. Okay.” 

Mabel half-heartedly stuck out a hand and Dipper gently shook it, sending his sister to a much needed nap as he drew the migraine from her, relishing the waves of pain that flowed through his body, savoring the sensation.

Dipper made sure Mabel was deeply asleep before he stepped out of the room and closed her door.

“Pole Star, Little Fighter, Bright One!” Dipper called. “Get your butts downstairs; we’re going out.”

—–

The nice thing about Gravity Falls, Dipper once again reflected as he blipped them to the grocery store, was that everyone knew him as much as they did the kids or Mabel or Stan.

So a besuited man with burning eyes and wings accompanied by three hyper six year olds suddenly appearing in the dairy aisle produced absolutely zero comment or notice from the few people doing their shopping around them.

What  _would_  make them notice however, was the sound of three redheads screaming with joy and immediately zipping to three different corners of the store before Dipper could even finish fussing with his hat, which Acacia had nudged out of place right before they left.

She probably had done that on purpose, which made the uncle in him exasperated and the demon within a little proud.

A bemused old woman, a lit cigarette dangling from her mouth in violation of the no-smoking signs posted everywhere, pushed her cart next to him and tapped him on the shoulder.

“One of them went for the candy aisle,” she rasped at him, taking obvious joy in his gaping mouth and the shock on his face.

He sighed. “Thanks Mrs. Castañeda,” he replied and began to look for his niblings.

—–

Dipper found Hank first, standing awe struck in the frozen aisle.

“Hank, you can’t run off like that, I know you know better…”

Dipper trailed off. Hank hadn’t heard a word that he said.

“Hank?”

He waved a hand in front of Hank’s eyes.

“Hank?”

Still nothing.

Dipper looked at what had his nephew so enrapt.

“Corn dogs?”

Hank finally broke away and looked at Dipper.

“Uncle Dipper can we have corn dogs for dinner?”

“Hank, tonight your dad is making, by hand, a pot roast, and garlic mashed potatoes.”

Hank shrugged.

“I really want corn dogs.”

“Kid, your dad makes better food than I have ever had in my life,” Dipper said, trying to reason with him, “and you want some weird crap that comes in a box and tastes like Play-doh on a stick?”

Hank thought about it for a minute, then nodded.

“Yeah.”

This is what he got for trying to reason with a first-grader, Dipper thought to himself.

“No can do Bright One,” Dipper replied and Hank groaned loudly.

He held out a pinky. “ _But_ if you behave the rest of the time we’re here, and you help me find your sisters, we’ll buy a box to have for dinner tomorrow. Deal?”

Hank wrapped a small pinky around Dipper’s. “Deal.”

A teeny puff of blue flame popped up from their entwined fingers and Hank laughed.

Dipper enclosed the rest of Hank’s hand into his own. “Now let’s find your sisters.”

\--------

Willow was by the meat section, face and nose pressed up against the glass of the lobster tank.

“Hey Willow-bean, let’s go and get your sister, okay?”

She turned to look at Dipper and oh fuck she was crying-

“Uncle Dipper, they’re so _sad_ ,” Willow sniffed and Dipper had a sinking suspicion of what had happened.

“Do you have your shields up? The bubble around your head?” he asked.

Willow shook her head. “No. I wanted if fish have feelings so I stopped the bubble and…and they’re _so sad._ ”

She plastered her face back on the tank, which was good, because Dipper was reminding himself that Willow was six, and didn’t need to hear him groan loudly from utter exasperation.

“Hey Will, let’s find Acacia!” Hank said, and then grinned at Dipper as if to say, “Hey, look, I’m helping, corn dogs? Corn dogs.”

“What’s going to happen to the fish?” Willow asked.

“The lobsters are-“Dipper heard a crash and goddamnit that was probably Acacia.

“They’ll get sold to be eaten, now let’s go get your sister.”

Willow’s aura flared bright, blinding pale yellows of sadness and that was probably the worst possible thing he could have said.

If he weren’t a being of pure energy with no weaknesses, Dipper would have been sure that he was starting to get a migraine of his own.

She came up to him and hugged his leg, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes.

“Can you save them?”

“Little Figher, I’m going to n̷e̡e̴d̵ a little more than tha-“

There was another crash and the sounds of upset adults.

“Come with me to find your sister and I’ll put them back in the ocean.”

Willow nodded and smiled, aura settling back down to pleased lavender and happy greens. Dipper snapped his fingers and the lobsters returned to the Atantic.

The butcher popped his head out from behind the meat counter.

“Okay kids let’s go,” Dipper hurriedly said and rushed them over to the sound of crashing.

To top it off, he now had a stomach ache from the lopsided deal he had just made.

Terrific

\----------

Acacia surprisingly was not in the candy aisle.

Nor was she in the office supplies aisle, looking at the markers and crayons.

And neither was she the source of the crashing noises, which had been two baggers having a cart joust and then crashing into a shelf full of canned goods.

Where she _was_ however was the aisle with the loose coffee beans.

No sooner had he and the kids turned did he see Acacia look thoughtfully up at one of the levers.

Too late did he start to run to his niece, tall for her age, as she reached up.

Hand outstretched, mouth open-

Acacia pulled the lever, and a flood of coffee beans spilled out onto the floor, the massive holder emptying in thirty seconds.

Some of the beans reached his shoes, and Acacia finally noticed her uncle and siblings standing at the end of the aisle.

“I wanted to see what it did!”

\-----------

Mabel woke up to the sound of her children playing happily in the front yard and groans coming from the living room.

She rolled off the bed, and stepped out of her bedroom.

The groans were coming from her brother, stretched out on the couch, and hat over his face.

“Hey Dipdops! Thanks so much!”

“n͢ńn͏҉̴ńģ͘h”

“I hope they didn’t run you ragged!”

“n͞n̶͘͠n͜ng̢͟h”

Mabel looked a little more closely at Dipper.

“Are you okay?”

“Ń̨nn̵͠n̵͟͡ņnn̢̕n҉n҉n̸̛ǹ̷ǹ͡͞nng̷h́.”

Mabel couldn’t help but begin to laugh at her brother, the Devourer of Souls and Lord of Nightmares, brought low by three first graders.

 

 


	96. Chapter 96

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> "prompt: the [x number] of times Henry silently freaked out over noticing Dipper casually doing hella creepy shit (picking human bone out of his fangs, absentmindedly cleaning blood from under his nails, etc) and the one time Henry not-so-silently freaked out"

**Three Times Henry Saw Dipper Doing Something Freaky and Managed to Be Okay With it Barely and the One Time He Freaked the Fuck Out**

  
**One  
  
**

He had been living at the Shack for a grand total of two days, when he managed to catch Dipper in a period of corporeality. Mabel’s brother was sitting on the couch, eating pork rinds that he was dipping in a cup of chocolate syrup mixed with pickle juice and watching Baby Fights.   
  


Dipper saw Henry come in and scooted his wing out of the way so Henry could sit down. He said nothing, but went back to eating. A pork rind came almost close to his mouth, when Dipper noticed something on his hands and frowned.  
  


Henry, who was trying to sneak the control away from Dipper, noticed him frowning as he put the pork rind back in the bag.  
  


“What’s up Dipper?”  
  


Dipper sighed heavily, and began to pick at his fingernails.

  
“Nothing much. I just didn’t get all the blood out from under them. I mean I licked my hands clean so I thought I got it all-“  
  


Henry’s mind had gone carefully blank, unable to comprehend entirely what he had heard.  
  


He saw Dipper’s hand go to his mouth again and-  
  


“WAIT!”  
  


Dipper looked at him and Henry smiled weakly at him.  
  


“Let me get you a pair of nail clippers.”

**Two  
  
**

There were pitch black clouds hanging over the Shack and only the Shack as Henry pulled in after work.   
  


He sighed as he turned his truck off and did a quick count in his head. The kids were still at school for another hour, Mabel was investigating a haunting in Eugene, and Stan’s car wasn’t in the yard, so it was up to him then to deal with…whatever was going on.   
  


He stepped inside and it felt like he was walking into a cave. Everything was dark, and the air was wet and thick. A wind whistled back and forth, the walls moving in time with the breeze, almost as if the Shack was breathing in and out, over and over again.  
  


By memory, and only tripping over the furniture and the kids’ toys that they had left out on the floor five or six times, Henry finally managed to make it into the kitchen.  
  


To his complete lack of surprise, he found Dipper there.  
  


His brother was sitting on the floor, the sleeves of his coat and shirt rolled up. Every one of their forks had been thrust with great force into both of Dipper’s arms, the tines of each fork sunk deep into his skin.  Golden blood ran in rivulets down his limbs and puddled onto the floor.   
  


Dipper looked up at Henry as he came in and Henry felt his blood run cold. That wasn’t Dipper there on the floor. That was someone…something else.  
  


“Do͡ ͡y͞o͠u̷ wan̵t ̵t̴o͡ kn̶ow w͝he̵n ̴yo͏u d̡ie?̡” Alcor asked and Henry felt a shiver run up and down the length of his body.  
  


He managed to swallow even though his mouth had gone as dry as his throat.   
  


“No, I’m good Dipper.”  
  


“Are ͠y̴ou ̷sur͝e?̵ ̧I̵ ̶j̡ust͡ ̀fo̶und̢ o̴u̵t ̴an̛d̕ ́i̢t͜'̷s͡ a͞l͞l I'v͝e b̀ée̷n̷ a͘b͏l͜e̛ ̕t͞o͏ thínk ́a͏bou͞t.” He pulled out another fork that Henry must have missed in his earlier count and slammed it deep into his thigh. The tines pushed cloth into the skin of Dipper’s leg, and blood immediately burst from the wound.

Henry winced.  
  


“Yeah, I’m sure Dipper.”  
  


“W͟h̨at̕ ̡a̶bǫut Mab́e͜l t̕h͞en?̛ I'͟l̀l͞ g͡i͏ve͜ yoư t̛h̀a̢t̵ ̸on̡e̶ ͡as a fr͢eebię!”  
  


Henry leaned down to put his head near Dipper’s ear, ignoring the pounding of his heart, every instinct screaming at him to run and get the hell away from Dipper as fast as he could.  
  


“Would you want Mabel seeing you like this?” he gently asked.   
  


Alcor looked up at him with blank eyes streaming with blue fire.  
  


Then he closed his eyes, and Dipper sobbed once, twice.  
  


The forks and the blood and the darkness disappeared, and the Shack returned to normal, or as normal as it could ever be.  
  


Henry sat all the way down on the floor with Dipper and wrapped his long arms around him as his brother began to softly cry.   
  


**Three**

Henry came home from work to find Dipper buried in a small pile of children on the lawn. It was Mabel and Dipper’s 65th birthday that weekend and everyone had come home to celebrate. His small herd of grandchildren had only been together for one day and already there had been one near fist fight (Myrtle and Linden), Nito and Jojo had crashed the golf cart, and Annie had accidentally gotten four of her siblings lost in the forest during hide and seek.  
  
It was chaotic and stressful, but Henry wouldn’t trade it for the world.  
  
Auriga sensed him, because her head shot up.  
  
“PopPop!”  
  
It was his turn to be rescued as eight or nine kids ran and tackled him. He hit the ground hard as his grandchildren scrambled all over him, covering him in slobbery kisses.  
  
He looked over to see black patent shoes next to his head.  
  
“Need a hand?” Dipper asked.  
  
“Sure,” he replied.  
  
Dipper pulled Henry up, dislodging kids in the process.  
  
A chorus of “aw’s” and sad, horrifically disappointed puppy eyes greeted this.

Henry noticed Dipper’s jaw moving even though his mouth was closed.

He sighed, and leaned in close to his brother-in-law’s ear.

“Swallow it.”

“What do you mean?” Dipper asked innocently.

Henry sighed. Forty years ago he would have been puking or freaking out at this, and a small part of him still quailed at the thought but-

“That piece of soul, or flesh in your mouth-you know what Dip. Not around the kids, remember?”

Dipper scowled.

“They won’t notice,” he said, mouth full.

“They won’t, but I will and so will Willow.  _Swallow it._.”

He frowned at Henry but did as he was asked.

How was Dipper sixty five years old again?

—-

**Four**

Henry walked into his new home (well, he’d been living with Mabel for six months now but still-) and saw Dipper on the couch, caught in a brief moment of corporeality.

He waved at his soon to be brother-in-law.

“Hey Dip!”

Dipper’s body remained stationary on the couch, in front of the TV, but his head twisted 180 degrees to look at Henry.

“Hey Henry!” Dipper said, head facing him and body facing the complete opposite way.

Henry proceeded to pass out on the floor.


	97. Chapter 97

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> "Mabel and Henry’s first slow dance together :>"

“I can’t dance.”

Mabel raised her eyebrows at her boyfriend of two months. Lazy Susan had closed up the diner to throw a Halloween party, and half the town had somehow crammed themselves into the tiny log shaped building.

She wrapped her arms around his waist, her head butting into his lower chest.

“No one else can either,” she pointed out.

This was true. Uncle Dan and Uncle Tyler were attempting to two-step and instead spent the majority of the dance stepping on each other’s toes instead. Stan and Soos’ Abuela were doing a weird sway walk across the floor, and Grenda and her fiancé Marius were doing…something. Henry wasn’t sure what but it involved lots of chest bumping.

He looked down at Mabel’s head.

“I’ve….I’ve never danced before,” he admitted shyly.

Mabel did not loudly exclaim at this, or immediately start reeling off dance steps or asking questions he wasn’t sure he wanted to answer at ten pm at the pancake shop.

All she did was put one of his hands on her shoulder and the other around her waist, before placing both of hers on his hips.

“Just follow my lead and remember-“

She beamed up at him and it was perfect,  _she_ was perfect and he was reminded once again how there was no one else in the world he wanted to be with than her.

“You can’t be any worse than Toby and that weird cardboard cutout he’s macking on.”

Henry snorted, and they began to slowly sway as the Monster Mack came on the jukebox.


	98. Chapter 98

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> "Prompt! Henry is going about his business, but then gets the feeling like he's being watched/stalked. He eventually finds out that it's this kid with the Sight who could see his antlers and was drawn to him because they also have some sort of similar spirit manifestation due to a curse of whatever."

He hadn’t been able to escape the feeling of being watched for the last half hour. 

On one hand, Henry wasn’t entirely sure what would bring a potentially dangerous stranger to the Gravity Falls Municipal Library, especially since he had worked out a deal between Stan and Mr. Hagesawa last year that had moved their more… _interesting_ collections to the Library at the Shack. There was nothing of interest here now…well, that was a lie,  _he_  thought there was lots interesting books here. 

Rephrase then. There was nothing of occult or magical interest at the library now, and certainly no reason for someone to be lurking around and stalking out the place.

But if there was one thing that life with Mabel had taught him, it was that there was no such thing as no such thing.

Also, there was no getting glitter out of the washing machine once it had gotten in there but that was something else entirely.

Henry hadn’t been able to actively look and see who had been watching them; the books on this cart weren’t going to shelve themselves after all. 

He ended up not needing to. As he turned a corner he saw a little boy standing in the aisle. The boy had to be no older than six or seven years old, and wore overalls and a green shirt, with black hair surrounding his head like a halo.

Henry knelt down to the boy’s level. “Hey there, is everything okay?”

The boy nodded solemnly, his eyes locked for some reason on the air above Henry’s head.

“Is your mom or dad here with you?” Henry asked, trying to remember if he had run into any other browsers in the last half hour.

The boy shyly nodded again.

He stuck out a hand. “My name is Henry. Do you need help finding them?”

The boy finally spoke. “Can I have a flower?”

That was the last thing Henry expected to hear.

“Uh-?”

The little boy pointed at the air above Henry’s head. 

“You have flowers in your branches. I thought some would fall off but they didn’t. Mommy and Mama like flowers. Can I have one please?”

He must have the Sight, Henry realized. 

The little boy in overalls looked at him hopefully. He smiled, revealing a mouth missing a baby tooth or two. 

Henry had no idea if this was going to work; he didn’t have the Sight himself so he couldn’t see or feel the branches bursting from his crown (most of the time any way.)

But he couldn’t bring himself to disappoint the little boy in front of him, so he reached in the area he thought a flower would be-

“Mister, why are you waving to the air?”

-moved his hand to the right a bit, concentrated as hard as he could, and plucked-

“Oh cool mister thanks!”

Henry opened eyes he didn’t realize that he had shut. In his hands were two flowers, fragrant and with petals that were a deep pink fading into white. He held them out to the little boy, who took them reverently.

“Need anything else?” Henry asked, smiling at the boy’s delight.

“Um…can you do fruit too?”

Henry laughed and shook his head. “Come back in a few months and I will.”


	99. Chapter 99

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> "I just want more interactions with Paz"

If she was being honest with herself, Pacifica still didn’t like going to the Shack to hang out.

Try as she could, she couldn’t get over her base revulsion at the moss growing on the rusty tin over the porch, the mismatching patches of brick and vinyl siding where rooms had been added on, the goat wandering around the yard, cars parked  _on the lawn_ -

She was being a snob and she knew it, which is why she still went over, and hopefully made no sign that being in a run down, vaguely smelly, about to fall over log cabin bothered the shit out of her.  

And of course, it was where one of her dearest (best) friends lived, though sometimes she wondered that she was at the point in her life that she considered Mabel Pines as such.

A brightly colored patchwork cloth was placed suddenly on her shoulder and Pacifica looked inquiringly at the woman in question. Mabel smiled.

“Wanted to get that on there before I gave you Willow,” Mabel said, passing her daughter over. Pacifica fumbled a bit, but she had already had more practice in handling babies in two months than she ever had in her whole life, and in a second she had gotten her niece settled on her chest.

Mabel picked up Hank and Acacia from their carriers and began to feed them. She looked expectantly at Pacifica, who looked blankly back. Was she holding Willow wrong?

Mabel laughed a little bit. “Sorry Pacifica! Can you burp her for me?”

Pacifica peered down at Willow, who was looking back with eyes that had just begun to focus on things.

“Burp?”

“Just pat her on the back until she burps.”

Pacifica tapped Willow on her back gently.

“No, don’t worry, don’t be afraid to give her a good whap! She needs to get that burp juice out of her.”

She couldn’t bring herself to do that but she did set up a nice rhythm on her niece’s back.

Mabel smiled again, and Pacifica could see the massive bags under her eyes. “Thanks for helping Paz. I don’t know what I would do without all of you guys here.”

“Just fine I think,” she responded, looking at the red curls already beginning to spring up from Willow’s head.

“Well, I do much better with you here so thank you.”

They sat in amiable silence for a minute…or as silent as the Mystery Shack could get, with the constant creek of  wood, the sound of Stan yelling at someone on the phone, the mutters of researchers in the Library.

And she was even getting this whole patting thing ri-

Willow burped and Pacifica felt something hot and moist land on her shoulder.

Pacifica froze, eyes bugged out. Do not freak out about your four hundred dollar shirt, do  _not_  freak out about your four hundred dollar shirt-

She felt Mabel’s shoulder bump into the not covered in baby vomit one.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay! That’s why I put the cloth there! I’m sorry, I should have warned you but I thought you would know and-“

Pacifica took a deep breath, exhaled.

“It’s fine Mabel.”

“Really?”

In her arms, Willow yawned and settled down to sleep.

“Yeah, it is. I’ll just wear an old shirt next time I come over.”

She was surprised to find that she…really didn’t mind, much.

Though the more she was around the triplets, the more she realized that she was really okay not having a small bodily liquid machine of her own, thank you very much.


	100. Chapter 100

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> "Henry on the receiving end of a magical mishap?"

Henry sat on the arm of the couch, and buried his head in his hands.

The other adults in the room were not helping right now.

Mabel had already hyperventilated three times, in between bouts of squeeing and picture taking. Stan thought the whole thing was hysterical and had spent twenty minutes straight laughing and pointing at Henry. As for Dipper, he had been looking at Henry in a way that reminded him that his brother in law was a demon, and as such had certain….predatory instincts.

Instincts that apparently flared up when Henry was somehow shrunken down to six inches tall.

He tried to speak up again. “Dip, do you know why this hap-“ but was interrupted by peals of screeching from Mabel.

“Henry! Henry your voice is so tiny and cute right now! Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, omigoshhhhhhhh….”

Mabel fell back against the couch, overcome with pure cuteness.

Dipper was….staring at Henry, eyes completely blown and nostrils flaring. His tongue darted out and licked his lips, before Dipper started, and shut his eyes for a second. When he opened them, they were back to normal, or as normal as they ever got.

“So the last thing you remember before you shrank was getting hit in the face with a flower?“

Stan laughed again, and both the twins shot him dirty looks.

The old man held his hands up. “Okay, okay, I’m stopping now.”

Henry nodded. “The wind blew this weird purple and brown flower in my face, and two minutes later-“ he waved a hand to indicate his current height. “-this happened.”

Dipper rubbed his chin in a way that he thought made him look deep and insightful, and Mabel thought made him look like a goof.

“That sounds like  _resilientes hyacinthus_.”

Mabel cocked her head at him and Dipper clarified. “Shrinking violet. Literally.”

“This isn’t going to last forever is it?” Henry asked. That this was only the fourth weirdest thing that had happened since his wedding six months ago said a lot about his life now. 

Dipper looked at him closely for a second, and Henry tried to ignore the racing of his heart. 

“Probably about seven hours. You got a light hit of the pollen so you should be fine.”

Mabel looked at her husband appraisingly.

“You know, I can put you in my pocket….OH MY GOD YOU CAN BE MY POCKET HUSBAND!”

Henry imagined being in Mabel’s pocket for seven hours which didn’t seem bad at first.

Then he imagined her passing out from sheer excitement and accidentally squishing him. 

“Um, if it’s okay with you honey, I think I’ll just camp out here in the living room.” He hopped from the arm of the couch to the dinosaur skull they used as an end table. He landed next to the clicker and looked back up at Mabel. “I’d rather kind of wait this out in one place, you know?”

In the other room, they heard the sound of a bell ringing, a sign that researchers were coming into the Library. 

Stan got up and looked at Mabel. “Come on kid, rubes to take care of.”

Mabel’s mouth twisted. “But Henry-“

Henry smiled. “Mabes, I’ll be okay, I promise.”

“Yeah!” Dipper said, joining in. “That carton of ice cream you gave me earlier will last me long enough to stay here and take care of Hen.”

The clack of his claws on the table rattled Henry to his bone. And had Dipper’s teeth always been that….sharp looking?

It was going to be a long seven hours.


	101. Chapter 101

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> " People summoning Alcor for knowledge, not power. What are the blueprints for this patent-protected invention? Where is the cheapest room for rent in this city? What’s going to be on the exam tomorrow? What does my sister want for her birthday? etc."

Dipper erupted onto the physical plane.

Ẇ̵ͬ͞Ȟ̐́ͨ̌ͩ͠Ǒ̴̶͊̔̈͡ ̨̡̀̈́͊̀Dͬͩ͠A̵ͥ̌͌̊ͫ̑̀R̵͋̽̈ͣ͌͡Ėͯ̍͂͋͞S͐̎͡͞ ̴̢̋̿Şͯ̄ͨ̎̃ͪ̇͋̍̀Ǘ̇͂ͯ́̀̋̈́̚͠M̿ͫ̓͌ͫ́Mͥ̏̌ͮ͛͌O̶ͣͫǸ̌ ͛̂̆̒̽̕A̾ͭ͆̈́̒͜L͌̆͛̊ͫ̆͑́C͑ͮ̽̈́͗ͮ̔̽͘͏O̴̧͋̈̐̌̓ͣͦ̈́̆R̵̶̿ͣ͛ͫ ̵̧̂̃̔̓̇̂̆̚T̸̅ͣ͊ȞEͧ͐ ͥ̆̕͢Ď̨́ͩ̉R̈́Eͩ̓͆͐͂͏́A̾͗ͫ̄̾̎ͣ̔̎Mͩͭ̚͏̵͠B̨ͯ̈́̌͆́Ȩ̡̛͌̏̍Ṅ̿̎̎̉͐͒̚҉D̊̇͋̀̆̌̕͜Eͮ̒̂ͦ҉́Ř̓̈͆ͫ?̔̽ͨ̿̑̓͒̉̃!̛ͩͪ̈͆͒̓́ͯ͢

“Um, I did sir.”

He looked down at his erstwhile summoner, a woman wearing a purple sundress, donut earrings, and had four or five pipe cleaners popping out of her afro. Her aura radiated nervousness, but not maliciousness, and-

“W͠h̨y ͜a͡ŕe you͟ ̵we̕a̷r̨i̵ng̡ ̵g͘a̶rdèning̸ ̷g͝l̵ove̵s̛?̶” Dipper asked, completely thrown for a loop.

The young woman looked at the old leather gloves on her hands, stiff with years of dirt and four sizes too big for her.

“So I didn’t get blood on my hands,” she said matter of factly.

“Speaking of blood,” he went on, his voice falling back down to his normal tones, “is this….blood from a steak?”

She nodded. “I tried to catch a rabbit and then I did but I felt  _really_  bad about killing him and um, blood is blood right?”

He resisted the urge to sigh because on one hand no it wasn’t not even close, but on the other hand, he’d rather less people kill anything to bring them to his attention so…

Dipper straightened back up, and tried to be professional again.

“Wh́̀àt̀ ́͘do̧ ̵̕͟y̸o̴̢͡u̡ w͘̕͝ą͟ń͡͞t̵?”

The young woman cocked her head.

“Soooo it’s my sister-in-law’s birthday tomorrow, and I have no idea what to get her. Can you help?”

Dipper looked at her. His jaw literally dropped.

“ _What_.”

She ran her hands through her hair absentmindedly, getting blood all through it.

“Oh not you too! I thought asking you would be fool proof!”

“I…. _what?_ ”

She turned to one of her basement walls and began to bop her head gently against it. “Matilda is  _the worse_  to shop for and-“

“ _Do you know how dangerous this is Jennifer?”_

She turned back to look at him, unphased by the fact that he knew her name without giving it. 

“Not as dangerous as showing up to Matilda’s birthday tomorrow with another wind chime. The woman is impossible, I swear.”

They looked at each other in mutual incomprehension for a moment.

Finally Dipper sighed.

“I’ll tell you what to get her, and in exchange, you swear that you never do anything this boneheaded again.”

Jennifer thought about it.

“Sounds cool. Hey….”

She turned and opened the fridge that was down in the basement, and pulled out a tray of fudge.

“Can I throw this in and you let me know what to get her the next ten years too?”

Dipper’s mouth watered.


	102. Chapter 102

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> "R!Henry has trouble with fig wasps for sOmE ODd reASoN ;3"

Dace Eglīte was at her wits end.

Well, honestly, she had been at her wits end for her entire life, but now,  _finally_ now she was in a position to  _do_ something about it.

Her birthday in July was met usually not with joy or happiness, but annoyance and pain. As long as she had been alive, summer was not a happy season but a horribly annoying one.

For whatever reason, and rounds of doctors hadn’t been able to figure out why, fig wasps swarmed around Dace. Every year, without fail, starting in April and May she would hear a buzzing around her ears, a buzzing that had no apparent source.

Then there was the increasing weight on her head, though once again, every doctor they went to didn’t seem to have a reason or answer as to  _why_  that might be.

And then there was June, and the eventual spread of hundreds of fig wasps around her head, surrounding her in a stinging cloud she couldn’t escape for the rest of the summer.

It was enough not just to drive her to tears, but the edge of madness. Her dads had taken her to someone with the Sight once or twice, but they had looked at her with pursed lips, and informed Tētis and Tēvs that there was nothing they could do.

One old woman had suggested that someone had cursed her in a past life.

They had left soon after that.

But now,  _now…._

“And all you want is….my old teddy bear?” she asked the besuited man. She was pretty damn sure that the man in front of her was no man at all, but a demon, or  _something_  along those lines. However, she was desperate, and…and there was something deep inside of her that said she could trust this man, be him mortal or demon, trust him with her life, her soul.

The man with fluffy brown hair who had approached her as she had been getting coffee nodded.

“Yup. I can even get it m͟ys̶elf͜, no problem at all.”

Part of her should be really thinking about this critically, see this deal for the bad business it was.

The larger part of her was tired of getting stung, of living with bugs and driving people away for five months of the year.

Of being so, so alone.

She held out her hand.

“Deal?”

He smiled softly and clasped her hand in his.

“Deal.”


	103. Chapter 103

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> from this tumblr prompt
> 
> "Henry's interview at the library to get his first job there"

Mr. Hagesawa looked down at the copy of Henry’s resume in his hands, and then back up at Henry again.

“And you graduated-?”

Henry swallowed around the massive lump in his throat, and hoped that the sweat beading on his forehead wasn’t visible. 

“Two weeks ago sir. This is, um, my um, first interview.”

The head librarian of the Gravity Falls Public Library beamed at him. “And you chose us?!”

“Er, yes,” Henry said, choosing a more politic answer than “you were the first person to call me.”

“Mr. Pines, do you know how long this position has been open?”

“Um-”

The other man slammed his hand on the desk and Henry jumped. “Two years! And do you know how many people have applied?”

Henry was trying to calm his racing heart. “A few?”

“ _No one!_  Nobody at all! Can you believe it? And now you’re here like, like…like-”

Henry braced himself.

“Like a gift!”

He was not expecting that.

Mr. Hagesawa went on, waving Henry’s resume excitedly. “ _And_ you just got your degree? The last time I was in school was thirty years ago! And Miss Trueheart never attended college! She refuses to let me get rid of our card catalog!”

That explained the massive cupboard of tiny shelves that stood immediately in front of the doorway, making it hard and cumbersome for people to enter.

“Son, when can you start? Now? Now would be good, I have so much to show you and we can get your desk ready and-”

“Wait, I’m…you’re hiring me?” Henry asked. He and his friends had all been warned by their teachers in the program that the job market out there was terrible, that it may be months or years before they found a position…

Mr. Hagesawa snorted. “You’re the first person who hasn’t run away screaming at the mention of Gravity Falls. Everything else on top of that is icing on the cake. Of  _course_  I’m hiring you! Now, do you have your social security card with you and can you read this packet about your 401K and-”

Henry let Mr. Hagesawa chatter away at him, completely stunned.


	104. Chapter 104

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> "Henry's funeral"

When the kids were seventeen, they had taken the seeds from one of Henry’s apples and buried them out back, to see if they would grow. Mabel wasn’t sure what surprised them all more-that they sprouted at all or how fast they had grown. In two years there was a mature tree in their yard bearing fruit. Countless pies, sauces, butters, and gallons of juice had been made from the apples that had burst off of that tree. Picnics and parties and the occasional night outside all held under the increasingly large canopy of the apple tree.

When it came time to bury Henry there had been absolutely zero question as to where they would lay him to rest.

Mabel shoveled another heap of dirt into the hole where they had buried her husband. When she had told the kids and Dipper what she wanted to do, they tried to talk her out of it at first. It had lasted all of two minutes before the four of them backed down.

The dirt, the work, was far, far lighter than she had thought it would be, the labor not wrecking her body like she had expected. Too late she had remembered that Dipper had been the one to give her the shovel.

Well.

She shouldn’t blame him.

And it wasn’t like she had a death wish (right? Right.)

Inside the Shack, the wake was raging, the beams of the old cabin shaking with music and tears and laughter and stories and their horde of grandchildren and great-grandchildren. There had been a service, and Mabel had to guess that it was a good one. She hadn’t heard a word of it, hadn’t heard her children or grandchildren speak, hadn’t felt her brother’s hand on her shoulder the whole time.

All of her attention had been focused on the simple coffin that was slowly but surely lowered into the ground.

The triplets and Dipper had tried to stay out here with her, but her stony silence had sent them in one by one, until she was left alone under the apple tree, a shovel and a pile of dirt to keep her company.

She was being selfish, a part of her knew this. She knew Acacia and Hank and Willow were reeling as much as she was, the loss of their father as much of a gaping hole for them as it was for her.  A tiny part of her was worried that she was rubbing it in Dipper’s face, that one day it would be him crying over her grave while she went on.

That part of her was only a small part though. Today she didn’t want to be smiley happy Mabel, Mabel who put others first.

Today it was only her and her grief and her husband in the fucking ground, dead.

The last shovelful of dirt landed in the pile, and she patted the dirt down flat with the shovel.

She looked at the turned earth at her feet, another firm reminder that she and Henry were now permanently apart. Another reminder that his body slept below and his soul was somewhere else being welcomed back into the world. Dipper had offered, shyly and hesitantly, to let her know who Henry was now, but she had gently turned him down. Henry was on his next adventure now, and it was good enough to know thanks to Dipper that he had been born to a family who loved him (or rather, her now) dearly.

That was little to no comfort right now to be honest.

She felt her knees begin to give out under her, and she lowered herself to the ground, laying her back against the trunk of Henry’s tree before she lost control and hurt herself. Eyes that had remained dry throughout the whole ceremony suddenly weren’t, and huge, heaving sobs began to tear out of her body.

He was gone. Her husband was gone and Mabel was left with the stone cold certainty that it wasn’t supposed to be this way, that they were supposed to have gone together.

They were supposed to have gone together, but he had burnt himself out, flaming higher and higher until she had fallen asleep to the usual sound of his rapid heartbeat and woke up to see his chest failing to rise, a smile on his face and his eyes closed permanently.  in

At some point she had toppled over and her face was lying in the dirt as she sobbed, and it was probably very melodramatic but Mabel didn’t care anymore. Logically, in the back of her mind, she knew that she was going to get up at some point and go into the Shack. Get up and comfort her children. Get up and keep on living because that was what Henry would have wanted.

But here and now, she had lost Henry, and it felt like she had lost half of who she was, more than half honestly. He had been her rock, her shelter for sixty years and Mabel had no idea what she was going to do without him.

Under his tree she curled up into as much as a ball as she could at her age. Fuck everything and everyone else, all she wanted to do now was die, wanted her body to sink in the ground and join his, wanted to go to sleep and never wake up and maybe find herself where he was….

An apple hit her on the head and drew her out of her thoughts.

“Owwww.” Mabel rubbed her head and she knew there’d be a big lump on her skull come morning.

She picked up the apple, massive and ruby red in her hands. Mabel looked at it for a minute, noticing every pit in its skin, the sign of the elements writ large on it.

A laugh tore out of her, despite everything that had happened in the past week.

“I  _am_  being a goof aren’t I?” Mabel spoke out loud, a laugh coming to the surface even through her tears.

She took a bite out of the apple, winced at the horribly bitter taste of the skin, moaned at the sweetness of the flesh.

Mabel wasn’t over this.

She never would be.

But in the house was her brother, and she could feel the worry coming off of him in waves. There were her children, who were as lost as she was. And there were the grandkids who were worried that they’d lose her as well as Pop Pop.

Mabel knew that she would spend another hour or two prostrate in the dirt, like she knew she would again and again over the next few weeks, hell even the next few months.

But it was for them that she would pick herself up and keep on going.

For Henry she would keep on living.


	105. Chapter 105

Dipper followed the sorrowful tug on his heart through the Shack until he ended up in the kitchen. He felt throbbing waves of blue and grey coming from under the sink and he smiled a bit despite himself.  
  
Willow would probably keep hiding under there until she couldn’t fit anymore, he thought to himself, as he knelt down to the cabinet door. He opened the door to reveal, as expected, his youngest niece.  
  
“What’s wrong Little Fighter?” Dipper asked, sitting down on the floor. (Not even demons were immune to say, trying to crouch for an extended period of time and then falling backwards on their butt.)  
  
Willow sneezed and a little poof of blue flame came out from the darkness under the sink. There was a blort noise as she tried to suck snot back up her nose. “Nothing.”  
  
“Well, it must be something if you’re in Sink Town,” Dipper gently teased, scooting a little closer.  
  
“No don’t! Don’t get closer!” Willow suddenly cried, a sharp yellow wave of panic coming from her. Dipper froze.  
  
“Willow honey-”  
  
She sneezed and another tiny flame blew out of her nose.  
  
“I’ll hurt you like I hurt Daddy,” she murmured miserably.  
  
His heart clenched. So that was what this was about.  
  
“You didn’t hurt your Dad, his shirt just got a little singed, I promise.”  
  
“ _This_  time,” Willow muttered. She crossed her arms and curled up tighter.  
  
“Can you take it away?” she asked in a small voice.   
  
“I can’t,” Dipper responded. He didn’t need to look to know that there was fire in her veins, entwined around her soul, flashing with every beat and pump of her heart. It was fire (his power) that had saved her life, fire that kept her alive. There was no telling where flame ended and Willow began; the two were one.  
  
Another sniffle interrupted his thoughts, and Dipper reached into the cabinet and gently pulled his nibling out and onto his lap. He cradled her head as she began to cry, her little sneezes of flame failing to leave a scorch mark on his dress shirt.

“It won’t always be like this, it will be okay Willow,” Dipper soothed as he stroked her long wavy hair.  

“How do you know? You never sneeze fire or make Acacia’s drawings go on fire or make the sink go on fire or-“

Dipper held his hands up. “Whoa whoa whoa! That’s not true.” Dipper thought about it. “Well, it’s true now but it didn’t used to be.”

Willow knuckled a tear out of her eyes and looked up at her uncle.

“Really?”

Dipper laughed.

“Oh yeah! I can’t tell you the number of times when I first got my fire that I burnt holes in your mom’s bedroom carpet. Your Grandma Pines thought your mom was playing with firecrackers inside for awhile. There was a two month period where your mom had to use a fire extinguisher on me or something I did every night.”

Willow chuckled, just as he hoped.

“One time your Grandpa summoned me to sit down to dinner with them and I sneezed and lit the entire table on fire.”

Her eyes had gone wide.

“No way!”

“Seriously. Your mom still makes fun of me for that.”

Willow looked down at her hands. A tiny blue flame popped up on her right index finger, disappeared, and appeared again on her left pinkie.

“How come you don’t do that anymore?” she asked.

“Practice. Lots of trial and error.” Dipper thought back to a back yard in Piedmont and Mabel throwing multiple buckets of water on him and shuddered. “ _Lots_  of practice. Luckily you got something I didn’t have.”

He held out a hand and she put one of her own in his. “What Uncle Dipper?”

He used his other hand to point at himself. “Me!”

For further effect, he shot some confetti from his sleeves.

Willow furrowed her brow. “But…don’t you always have yourself? If you’re you? Uncle Dipper, you’re being silly!”

Okay, that went over her head, but to be fair, she was six. He closed his hand over hers, and then lit their clasped hands up into blue flames.

“I’ll teach you how to control your fire Willow.”

“No more accidents?” she asked seriously, far too seriously for someone so small.

“I can’t promise that-I still have accidents too, you know!”

(and she didn’t need to know about the scent of roasted meat that filled his nose even as he said that)

Dipper went on. “But not as often as now. Sound good?”

Willow nodded.

“It’ll be hard work at times,” he warned.

“That’s okay.” She thought for a second. “Don’t I need to make a deal?”

Dipper ignored the part of him that was screaming out “YES” and squeezed Willow until she squeaked and laughed.

“How about you promise to try your hardest? Sound like a deal?”

Willow nodded solemnly and held out her pinky. He wrapped his pinky around hers and they shook.

“Deal Uncle Dipper.”

He hugged Willow until she squeaked and laughed. “Excellent. How about we get started now. Can you light your hand on fire?” A better thought occurred to him and Dipper took his hat off and fished around inside until he pulled out a package.

“I’m hungry. Let’s practice on these instead.”

(When Henry came in to make dinner an hour later, he found his daughter and brother-in-law still on the floor, with burnt and melted marshmallows all over the laminate around them.

Henry pinched the bridge of his nose, counted to ten, and tried to remember that he could at least guilt Dipper into cleaning up this mess.)


	106. Chapter 106

Dipper didn’t take his object form too often. It made him think of another floating object, and the less he thought about Bill, the better. 

That being said, it  _was_  useful at times. People saw a floating star and underestimated him, let their guards down, made it easier to wheel and deal and trick them…

Like now for instance.

“G̵̡lob̕al̀ do̡͝ḿ͡í̛n҉a̧͟t̡͜io̡͝ǹ͜ ͏̵e̢͝h͞?̧” he said, looking at the supplicant kneeling on the floor. Honestly, this was way too easy, even in this form. Dipper couldn’t  _wait_ to see the look on this dude’s face when he delivered in the form of basketballs and snow globes and-

His whole body thrummed as he felt Mabel yanking on the link between them, trying to get his attention.

“ Ho͝ld ́on̴ a s҉ećond̛; ̧I ͠ńe̢e͢d ̷to ͠p͞rep͟aŗe̛ my̕se͏lf̷ ̀for ͝a ţas͞k͞ ̧of ͘tḩi҉s͏ ͢m̀ag͜ņítu̶d̸e,” Dipper told the kneeling man on the floor, lying through his teeth.

He turned around and [a little screen opened up in his middle, revealing the image of his sister](http://ectopuppy.tumblr.com/post/110165040596/okay-mizar-make-this-quick-im-in-the-middle-of). 

“Is everything okay Mabel?” Dipper asked so only they could hear. “I’m kind of in the middle of something-”

“What did you give them?”

“Excuse me?”

Mabel’s voice was low and cold. “I said, what did you give the kids?”

Dipper’s mind raced, trying to remember what had happened so far today. He had gotten the triplets out of bed, helped them shower and brush their teeth, got them into their clothes, made breakfast and because they had been so good-

“Um, I found some of your leftover Smile Dip and I let them have it because they’d been good all morning and-”

“ _You gave them what?”_

In the background Dipper could hear crashing and screaming. 

“Is everything okay Mabes?” Dipper tentatively asked, having a feeling that his twin was about to chew his ass out. 

Her breathing was audible over their connection, even though he was currently somewhere in Florida.

“Brother,” Mabel began sweetly. He was fucked.

A voice from behind and below him asked, “Um, is now a bad time my Lord?” Dipper covered the image of his sister’s face, ignoring her indignant squeak, and turned around.

“ Pat͟i͞en͡ce.͏..u͝n̸le͜s҉s yo͟ư ̀d͠o͏n'͏t͘ ̛ _wàn̛t_  ̕t͢o rųl͡e ̨t̶he gl͝o̶be?” he replied tersely. The summoner squeaked and went back to bowing deeply. That taken care of he turned back to his call. 

“Dipper,” Mabel continued in that falsely calm voice, “there’s a reason we don’t give the three year olds much sugar. Let alone high octane sparkly pink and blue explosion sugar that’s banned in three countries.”

He winced. “Um, I can-”

“It wasn’t even lying out! I put it on the one shelf they haven’t figured out how to climb up and reach yet! What made you think it was okay to give it to the triplets?!”

“Well, they were really being well behaved-”

Mabel usually wasn’t one to lose her temper but at these words she snapped. 

“They aren’t now Mister Man! Acacia has been running around the house and climbing on everything and she’s already knocked down every chair in the house. Hank wants to beat on everything to make music and he keeps thumping on the walls and the floors and almost all the researchers in the Library have left for the day! And it’s long past time for Willow’s nap and she’s been crying because she’s tired but can’t sleep for half an hour and-”

Mabel took a deep breath.

“I know you’re the uncle and that means you do fun cool stuff with the triplets, but just, I don’t know, maybe  _think_  next time?”

“I’m….Mabel, I’m sorry. I just, they were being so sweet this morning, and I couldn’t find the grapes you have for them and..and…”

His wings drooped. 

“Hey,” Mabel went on, voice slightly softer now. “It’s okay. We all make mistakes. I’m sorry I went off on you.”

Dipper smiled (though in this form, that just meant he glowed brighter.) “Well, I did kind of deserve it. How can I make it up to you?”

“Get your butt back here as soon as possible and help me wrangle your nieces and nephew.”

“Can do,” he replied, and hung up.

Dipper turned back to his summoner, who by now was quivering not only with anticipation, but with the effort of holding one really awkward position for a long time.

“ À̤͙͚̬͇̗r͏͇e̜͓̬̪̥͔ ͉̼̱͔̩͔͡y̭̯̞̪o̺̖͝ư̗̫ ̧̳̥̠̼ṛ̮̟̞͇͉ȩàḍ̸̤̤y͓̱͟?̭̬͞ ̧̮̰̪ “ Dipper asked. Oh this was going to be  _excellent_ -

(The energy he received from the deal came in handy when he got home and spent the next seven hours chasing three over excited toddlers around the Shack. 

Dipper swore to himself never to give the kids Smile Dip again, and then broke his promise a year or two later).


	107. Chapter 107

“Grunkle Stan?! Grunkle Stan where are you? I got a guy named Big Lou on the line for you in the Library and he sounds kind of mad and oh-!”

Mabel peered at her great-uncle, who was currently sitting at the desk in his office. He was looking at a large picture frame in his hand, bright pink and glitter, and didn’t seem to notice that Mabel was standing in the doorway. Mabel had made the frame for him for Stan’s birthday a few years ago, putting together several pictures that had been scattered around the house.

There was Stan and her and Dipper on his crappy old fishing boat. Her in a gown and robes, and a corporeal Dipper crying golden tears the day she graduated high school. There was Stan on the day of their wedding, eyes suspiciously red as he stood in between her and Henry. Grunkle Stan holding the triplets in the hospital, tiny heads capped with two green caps and one yellow cap popping out of his arms. Grunkle Stan and the triplets all covered in chocolate cake and whipped cream at their third birthday party.

And a picture she had found in the cracks of the parlor floorboards, of Grunkle Stan and his brother, sunburnt and standing next to a wreck of a boat, the words “Stan-o-war” freshly painted on. 

Mabel had a feeling that she knew what was wrong. 

“They won’t stay mad at each other forever, you know?” she said quietly, finally getting his attention. His head shot up and he stared at her.

“What are you talking about kid?” he asked, playing dumb. 

“The kids. They’ll get over it in like, an hour, and be back to normal, I promise.” From what Mabel could tell when she had gone into the living room to break the three of them up, Willow and Acacia had gotten into a fight over who could have the last of the red gummy bears in the bag. Hank had tried to intervene by reaching in and stuffing all of them in his mouth, which made perfect sense to her son, but only made his sisters turn on him. Mabel had heard the sound of their squabbling all the way across the Shack, and had to leave her desk for a second to break them up. Currently there were three very upset five year olds positioned in time out in the corners of the living room. She planned on giving them a few minutes to stew, before letting them free. Mabel hadn’t realized that Stan must have heard them fighting from his office. 

Grunkle Stan said nothing, but Mabel noticed his thumb rub the corner where she had put the picture of him and Ford. She went on. 

“Yup, they’re just like me and Dipper at that age. Did I tell you about the time we were fighting over who got to play with the cool Barbie, and we both fell down the stairs because we were in the hall?” Mabel forced a laugh. “Scared the flip flop out of Mom, I can tell you that!”

He harrumphed. “Sweetie, I’m not stupid, I know kids fight, sheesh, tell me something new.” But Mabel could see his hands tighten on the frame and shake a bit. She sighed. They could dance around in circles for an hour because Stan Didn’t Talk About Feelings or she could be blunt. She chose blunt. 

“They’re not going to end up like you and Ford.”

Grunkle Stan snorted. “I wasn’t worried about that at all; hey did I hear the phone ringing in the Library I can go get that-”

Stan put down the picture frame and got up from his desk, but before he even had stepped around, Mabel’s arm had shot out, barring the doorway.

“I mean it Grunkle Stan. I know it sc-” She thought about her Grunkle, and chose a different word instead. “-worries you when the triplets yell at each other. But they will never end up like you and your brother, I promise.”

Stan looked away, and rubbed a hand over his face. Quietly he said “I didn’t think we’d end up that way but we did.”

“Yeah but you know what the kids have that you two didn’t?” She pointed at herself with both thumbs. “MABEL!”

A weak smile broke on Stan’s face despite his best efforts. Mabel launched herself at him and grabbed her great-uncle in a massive hug.

“Mabel, kiddo you’re going to break my ribs-”

She let him go and poked him in the stomach. “The kids will be fine because you and me and Henry and Dipper….we make sure to let each of them know that they’re special in their own way, that we love them for them, we don’t compare them or make them feel like crap or any of that.”

The term “unlike your parents” lingered in the air, unsaid but understood.

Stan rubbed the back of his head, still obviously not completely convinced. Mabel smiled softly and took her grunkle by the hand.

“Here, I’ll show you.”

They made their way quietly though the house and to the living room. They peeked through the door way. All but one corner held a small red-head looking both at the wall and not as sorry as Mabel would have liked, but eh, they were five.

“Will. Case.” Hank said from his corner. “Guess what?”

Willow snerked. “What Hank?”

Hank paused for a second and then whispered, “Butts.”

Both his sisters broke out into furious giggles and he joined them. They calmed down, and then Acacia said, “Guess what?”

“What?”

“….double butts.”

The three of them burst into simultaneous peals of laughter, and Mabel looked at Stan. His eyes looked suspiciously moist, and Mabel pretended not to notice.

She put her hand into one of Stan’s. 

“They’ll be fine because they got us, and they got each other. Now go pick up the phone while I let them out of time out. Pretty sure Big Lou just got even madder waiting for us.”

Stan swore and walked off into the Library.

Mabel grinned. 

Alpha mom won again. 


	108. Chapter 108

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> based off this post
> 
> http://randumbdaze.tumblr.com/post/125091785972/in-the-tau-chat-it-was-mentioned-that-henry

When Dipper blipped home that night, Henry was waiting for him on the porch, looking distinctly Not Impressed. 

Dipper had caught sight of some of the books on Henry’s desk in his office this morning and he had a feeling what this was about.

“You look…unamoosed,” he offered, unable to help himself. 

Henry winced. “Dipper please.”

Dipper sat down next to him in the swinging porch chair, and pushed them off. Or tried to any way-Henry’s longer legs were planted on the ground and thus prevented lift off. Dipper resisted, barely, the urge to pout. 

Henry said nothing, letting silence reign on the porch.

“You have to admit, it fits,” Dipper said after a moment of squirming in the quiet.

Still his brother in law said nothing, only inspected the backs of his hands.

“I mean you have antlers now! They’re not like moose antlers but you have them! And you’re really tall and big, and um…” Dipper sensed he was digging the hole only deeper and deeper but was unable to stop the stream of words coming out of your mouth. “And I really wouldn’t want to piss you off and you move fast for your size, and if you got hit by a car I’m really sure you’d break the windshield and-”

At that last part Henry laughed. He reached around and clapped Dipper on the shoulder.

“Dip, it’s alright, I promise.”

Dipper’s mouth dropped and Henry smiled.

“I don’t mind, I promise.”

“You…you…” Dipper wormed out of Henry’s half embrace and pointed a finger at him. “You were fucking with me!”

Henry grinned. “Yup.”

Dipper was shocked. Henry  _never_  did stuff like this-

Henry leaned back in the rocking chair. “It does you some good to get some of the hot air knocked out of you at times.”

Dipper growled and went into the house, muttering to himself. This was a challenge that could only be met with multiple moose puns. 


	109. Chapter 109

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> "In one of your fics (I can't remember the name, but it was the one where Dipper gave Mabel a lamb), you mentioned that Henry was making Mabel a scrapbook for her birthday. Can you write about Henry working on the scrapbook and later giving it to her? Thanks :)"

After presents and dinner, after the cake fight that Mabel and Dipper had gotten into, after Stan hosed them off despite the fact they were still in the kitchen, getting water and cake everywhere, after the babies had been put to bed…. After all that, it was only Mabel and Henry in their bedroom.

Henry swallowed as Mabel got ready for bed, braiding her hair, slipping on one of his old t-shirts and a pair of sweatpants. He wiped his sweaty palms on his pajama pants. There was no need to be nervous, he reminded himself for the hundredth time; Mabel loved him and even if she didn’t care for this gift, it wasn’t like it was going to destroy their relationship or anything silly like that.

Mabel did her nightly “jump on the bed and send all the pillows flying off” plop next to her husband. 

“I…I got one more present for you,” Henry finally managed to get out.  Mabel cocked her head at him. 

“Ohhhh?”

“Close your eyes and hold out your hands.” Mabel did so, and Henry fished under the bed for the gift. He placed it in Mabel’s hands, and she opened her eyes before Henry had a chance to say so.

It was a large book, about the size of most photo albums, and bound in simple brown leather. On the cover was the only picture they had gotten of all seven of them in the hospital the day the kids were born; Dipper had been physical for most of that day after the kids were delivered but it had been tricky finding someone to take a picture that included a demon.

A soft sigh of surprise escaped Mabel’s lips. “Oh Henry-”

She opened the book. Inside were pictures that he had taken while she was pregnant, records of doctor’s visits and ultrasounds, guest lists from the three separate baby showers that had been thrown. There was Mabel asleep on the couch, Dipper curled protectively around her stomach. Mabel, floating in the town lake at eight months, looking like a big stripey beach ball with legs and brown hair attached. 

Then the color of the pages changed from light blue to a pale yellow, the first yellow page showing Mabel getting ready to be wheeled into the operating room, a wan looking Henry decked out in scrubs following near by. Tiny tufts of hair gently clipped and placed in small plastic bags that were attached to the page. Four hospital id bracelets; one large and the other three impossibly tiny. 

Tears tracked down Mabel’s face as she went past pages that recorded monthly statistics about their children’s growth and development. Pictures of Dipper holding all three of them in his arms at once and blowing blue fire to make them giggle, of Stan rocking Hank to sleep, of Mabel burbling Acacia’s belly.

Finally she reached the end where there was a spate of blank pages. She looked at Henry.

“I can’t really scrapbook, so I left those for you to keep going if you wanted,” Henry explained.

Mabel looked at the scrapbook he had spent the past year making, then up at her husband, then burst into tears.

“Oh gosh, Mabes are you okay sweetie? Did I get something wrong? Did-”

Mabel quieted him by planting her lips on his and proceeded to give him the biggest, sloppiest kiss he had had since their wedding.

She pulled him into a rib breaking hug.

“You are ridiculous,” she said, her voice muffled in his chest and stuffed up with snot and tears. “This is the most amazing, wondrous, fantabulous present I’ve ever gotten. I…Henry…”

It wasn’t often that Mabel was at a loss for words, and Henry marvelled that he had done that to her.

“I love you, you ridiculous ginger moose. Thank you so much. This is… this is the best birthday gift I have ever gotten.”

She looked down at the book in her hands, and then shyly looked back at her husband.

“And if you want to, I think you should keep adding too it.”

Henry’s throat tightened. 

“I would love that,” he finally managed to say 


	110. Chapter 110

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> triplet related pandemonium; demonic uncle optional.

Dipper was, for better or worse, a demon. 

Not just any demon, but the Dreambender, Master of the Mindscape, Eater of Souls, King of Nightmares, and any other amount of titles that he had some how amassed in only two decades of existence. 

The point was, as a demon he knew chaos, loved it, reveled in it. No one or nothing could out do him when it came to unleashing chaos and madness upon the world.

Dipper lowered the gloved hand that was covering his face to look at the living room again. 

Five minutes. He had left them alone for only five minutes while he popped onto this plane and gone to the kitchen to make them sandwiches.

He had come back to find the couch somehow turned over, the T-Rex skull with flowers drawn all over it in crayons, and all the axolotl food floating at the top of the tank. Hank had found Mabel’s yarn and was currently running around yelling like a multi-colored mummy; Dipper counted at least four skeins of his sister’s yarn currently wound all around Hank. Acacia and Willow were giving each other makeovers, using their markers to color on each other’s faces. Willow had drawn in blue marker on Acacia’s eyelids, and Acacia was currently filling in two massive circles she had drawn on her sister’s cheek with a red marker.

Dipper stood dumbfounded as Hank accidentally ran into a lamp and knocked it over, and Willow lifted her shirt for Acacia to give her a tattoo in  _oh fuck was that Sharpie?_

From outside he heard the sound of a car pulling in, and the sound of Mabel’s singing warbling out of the open car windows.

He sighed and went back into the kitchen, since the damage was already done. As a being of pure energy, Pepto Bismol probably would have no effect but if it gave even a placebo effect he’d take it. 

Demons, Dipper decided, had absolutely  _nothing_  on small children when it came to wreaking havoc.


	111. Chapter 111

Stan had looked away for two seconds, only two seconds, but that was enough for Acacia to slip away from him and her siblings.

“Willow, where the fu- where did your sister go?”

Willow looked up at Stan with eyes that always seemed to him too old for her small face. Then she pointed across the street from where Stan had been getting the kids ice cream, to the pet store one of Mabel’s friends owned. Already he could see a tiny figure crowned with red hair plastered to the window display.

He handed his grand-nephew and niece their ice creams. “Hank, Willow, watch each other while I go get your sister,” Stan said, and then crossed the street to where Acacia was. With a little effort, he knelt down next to his grand-niece. She noticed him and beamed at him, her tounge sticking through the two front teeth that had recently fallen out.

“Grunkle Stan! There’s  _gerbils_ at Aunt Grenda’s now!”

He looked and sure enough there was a massive case full of gerbils in the window. How his niece saw them from across the street he had no idea. Damn young eyes. 

He laid a hand on her small shoulder and clucked. “Kiddo, I don’t know if you want to be so close to those things.”

A bit of doubt entered into Acacia’s voice for the first time. “Why…why not Grunkle Stan?”

Stan snorted. “Because they eat human flesh Acacia.”

Her blue eyes bugged out for a second, and then an indignant look crossed her face.

“Nuh uh! Grunkle Stan you’re  _lying_.”

He shook his head at her foolishness. “Why do you think they’re so fat? And look at all that fur on those suckers; they can only get really long fur when they eat human meat.”

“Why would Aunt Grenda keep something so mean in her shop huh?” Acacia puffed up, proud of pointing out the fallacy in her grunkle’s logic. 

“Sweetie, your aunt also keeps manticore pups in there too. Gerbils aren’t much of a stretch.”

“But…but-” Horror dawned on Acacia’s face. “Does this mean Aunt Grenda kills people and then chops them up and then takes their skin off and pokes out their eyes and get their blood to feed the gerbils?”

Stan reminded himself to maybe watch a few less horror movies and murder mysteries with the kids late at night and went, “Oh no. Your Aunt Grenda keeps them in their to eat any robbers that come in, that’s all! They just live on steak until they can sate their craving for human flesh.”

He gently ushered her away from the window. “See, that’s why it’s important to stick with me and your brother and sister when we’re out. So I can keep an eye on you. Now lets go before Hank eats your ice cream-”

“Hank wouldn’t do that Grunkle Stan!”

“Okay he wouldn’t but I would now get moving.”

(Three nights later, Stan had to explain to his nephew the demon why Acacia was dreaming about fire breathing man eating gerbils)


	112. Chapter 112

Henry looked at Stan, and he tried his best not to quail under the gaze of a man forty years younger than him. Damn he wished it was Mabel or Dipper here instead of Henry. They’d just yell at him, and he could yell back. Henry though. Henry just sighed and looked  _disappointed._  

The tall man sighed and pinched his nose, pushing his glasses up his forehead as he did so. From upstairs both men could hear yelling, splashing, and thumps as Dipper and Mabel tried their best to clean off three overexcited six year olds. 

Henry looked at him. “Stan, why did you tell the kids that there were alligators living in the bottom of the outhouse?”

“Hey! You’re the one that didn’t want them going out there and messing around with that old thing!”

His son in l-Henry actually looked over the tops of his thick rimmed glasses, like every librarian in the movies he used to watch with Ford when he was little. Something so cliche shouldn’t have had an effect on him but damn if it didn’t do so. 

“All you had to tell them was that the outhouse was dangerous and that they weren’t allowed to play in it.”

Stan snorted. “Like those little hooligans would have just laid down and taken that? No way. You need to put some  _fear_  in them! And, alligators…got like, really sharp teeth, and-”

Henry raised an eyebrow. “Oh, you mean really sharp teeth like their uncle? Who also has claws? And occasionally bursts aflame?”

Stan blew a raspberry. “Come on Henry, give the kids some credit. They can tell the difference between their uncle and a alligator.”

“That’s not the point Stan; please don’t try and derail our conversation-”

“And don’t talk down to me son,” Stan asked, voice a little cold.

Henry nodded, recognizing the point, and then went on.

“Stan, for better or worse, the triplets are exposed to danger every day. Their responses are going to be a little…skewed.” 

There was a particularly big splash upstairs and Henry winced before going on. “So they’re not going to be scared by that, or think to themselves that they should stay out. They’re going to want to explore.”

Stan stiffened on that last word. “Hey, how was I supposed to know that my crackpot brother kept a secret store room under the outhouse?”

“Okay true, but you should have guessed that Acacia was going to lead Hank and Willow down there.”

The old conman couldn’t help but chuckle at the memory, still fresh and vivid in his mind, of him and Dipper pulling an indignant Acacia last out of the outhouse. She had some how found a mining helmet out of all the junk he still had lying around the Shack, and had given Hank one of his old gas lit lanterns to hold. Willow was buried under massive coils of rope, and they had all found dishtowels that they had stuffed in the back of their shirt collars like capes. 

“Grunkle Staaaaan I wanted an alligator tooth!” she had yelled before Mabel had joined them and with her twin hauled the three kids straight to the bathroom to wash up. The triplets were so caked in thick brown dirt that Dipper had blipped them to the tub rather than go through the house. 

Henry crossed his arms and looked a little sad, and fuck that shouldn’t have an effect on him but it did goddamnit. 

“Stan,” Henry began gently. “I don’t care that you tell the kids big old whoppers like that gerbils eat human flesh, or that peacocks make that noise because they drink milk that little boys and girls don’t finish at the dinner table, or whatever. But just…just think please? Those kids listen to you, you know? They hang on your every word. They take it to heart.”

He smiled at Stan a bit and left the room, going up the stairs to help his wife and brother in law. Stan remained standing in the living room, hand gripped tightly around his cane. 

How long had it been since he had someone listen and trust him completely, let alone three someones? 

There was a scream from the bathroom upstairs. “NOT THE BUBBLEGUM SHAMPOO MOM NOOOOO-”

Stan grinned. 

He was going to have to get more creative with what he told the kids.


	113. Chapter 113

“You feel any wiser?”

Acacia looked up at Dipper from the eyepatch she had been bedazzling. He steeled himself to not visibly react to the wreck that had been made of her right eye, to the mass of gauze and bandages and tape that covered a fourth of her face.

To quell the fury that threatened to flood him, that wanted to burn the world and dance on the ashes for daring to hurt his nibling, his Pole Star.

(He wanted to kill every last person that had touched her, to feast upon their souls, but Henry had beaten him to the punch.)

Her mouth crooked in a half smile and she laid her handiwork down in her lap. “Uncle Dipper, I’m not Hank or Willow. What the fuck are you talking about?”

He sat on the edge of her hospital bed, the weight of his body felt only by her. The nurse on duty had fainted earlier when she had come in to see a demon dancing attendance on her patient, so incorporeal he stayed for now.

“The Norse god, Odin. He sacrificed an eye to gain wisdom and knowledge. So,” he waved a hand at her face. “Feel any smarter? Any world shaking insights to share?”

A deep, throaty laugh tore it’s way out of her mouth, followed by some snorting. “I just feel sore. And gross. And itchy. Don’t feel any smarter.” She held up the eyepatch she had been working on. “Now, what do you think about this? Reina thinks having an eye on an eyepatch is tacky but I think it’s hysterical-”

Acacia went on but Dipper barely heard her over the sound of blood rushing in his ears, the world giving way around him.

He wanted to think that this…that this…that Acacia losing an eye had some deeper meaning. That it was one last machination from Bill (but Bill was dead, long dead and scattered to the wind). Or that fate would lead Acacia into deeper insights with the loss of an eye (but the Sight didn’t work like that.)

What happened to his niece was meaningless. There was no good reason, nothing gained. No greater hand of destiny was responsible, only the petty desires of a ghost from Stan’s past. It was stupid and chaotic and he hadn’t seen it coming, hadn’t been able to prevent it. He could suck the life from the ground around him, devour souls with no bargain, and one day he would be able to crush worlds if he so chose (he felt it in his bones.)

Yet he hadn’t been able to keep one of the people he loved most in the world (his his his) from losing an ounce of flesh. All of this power at his command and he still couldn’t control everything, couldn’t order the the world the way he wished. He should have known, he should have been able to stop this he should have-

“Uncle Dipper?”

Dipper snapped out of his reverie, to find his niece looking at him with fond exasperation. It was a look that was on Mabel’s face frequently.

“Honestly,” she said with a smile on her face. “It’s okay Uncle Dipper. Shit happens. You just roll with it and keep on going.”

“But…”

Acacia huffed, blowing some of her curly hair out of her face. “What upsets me is seeing you mope by my bed. Come on and make yourself useful; can you get me some more stones for bedazzling from my house?”

Dipper took a deep breath in, a breath out. Reminded himself that he didn’t know everything. That those he loved still had a thing or eight to reach him.

“What’s in it for me Pole Star?”

“I can totally bedazzle your suit jacket.”

“Deal.”


	114. Chapter 114

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> Henry and Stanley bonding time? Before or after Henry and Mabel get married =)

Stan wasn’t stupid, or at least, not  _all_  the way stupid. He noticed things, noticed people. Much of his life had relied on being able to size others up, figuring out how he could play them, how he could get out of a sticky situation with his words (and fists.)  
  
And he was noticing things about this boy of Mabel’s.

That didn’t mean he didn’t like the kid, no not at all. Stan didn’t think he and this egghead would ever have much in common, but hell, there was room for another poindexter in this family (especially now that Ford was…no.)  
  
Henry was good for Mabel. He was a level head when some of Mabel’s more….creative ideas threatened to blow up in her face. But he didn’t try to change her either, didn’t try and ground her free spirit. And in turn she made the kid laugh (and Stan was getting a feeling there was precious little laughter in Henry’s life before he met his niece.) Henry looked at Mabel like she had hung the stars and moon, was completely devoted, head over heels in love with her.  
  
And he had taken Dipper in stride too, had accepted Dipper as part of his family as well. Dipper scared Henry still, Stan could tell from the flinches and sharp breaths Henry would take when Dipper came in the living room covered in blood, or brought him an inside out hamster to play with. But Henry did his best to hide his fear and continue on like normal. Even when he couldn’t see or hear Dipper, he would do his best to include the demon in the conversation, trying to talk to Dipper as directly as he could. He  _tried_ , and no one Mabel had brought home before had ever done that.  
  
Hell, the kid had stood up to him when he had tried to scare him off. He also cooked! Cooked actual food, not the same three dishes that Mabel did or the microwave meals and Stancakes he pushed out. And, perhaps most exciting of all, he had completely reorganized the Library for them. Stan didn’t think there was no stopping him, not after the first time Henry walked in, saw the way Stan had put the shelves up, and a pained-on the verge of tears look crossed his face. No, Stan liked Henry, but they were nothing alike. Henry was a soft spoken, nerdy beanpole and Stan was….Stan.  
  
After Henry had lived with them for a month or two, Stan began to realize that they did have something in common after all.  
  
—–  
  
Ten years of rough living, interesting coworkers, and outrunning mobs had taught Stan the value of casing every room you found yourself in: count the exits, count the people inside, look for all possible exits again. He had taught that to Mabel and Dipper, when they started to really get into their mystery magic hunting shit, but they were able to leave that at the front door of the Shack.  
  
Stan couldn’t. The rot ran too deep.  
  
When Henry sat down to dinner, his eyes flicked to the doorway, the window, and the doorway again. In the Library his eyes included the vending machine as well, and in the living room his gaze would touch upon the panel they had showed him that had the secret escape button.  
  
Henry had shiftier eyes than even him.  
  
“How old did you say you were kid?” Stan asked a week after Henry moved in.  
  
“Twenty three.”  
  
“Do any jail time?”  
  
Henry put down the knife he was using to cut vegetables with and looked at Stan.  
  
“Um, no.” Henry peered at Stan puzzled for another minute and then went back to chopping.  
  
Stan let it drop, since it was clear now that it was an unconscious reaction on Henry’s part. He had no idea that he was casing the joint better than any ex-con Stan had ever met.   
  
Or any idea that he was safe at the Shack.  
  
—–  
  
Stan was, despite what some snot nosed Sumerween treaters would say, the King of Fright, the Emperor of Scare, the Czar of Terror, and so on and so forth.  
  
He had a whole arsenal of tricks up his sleeve (also under his hat and tucked into his belt) but his favorite by far was the jump scare. His greatest achievement had come when Dipper was seventeen and still in “weird demon puberty” as Mabel had put it. He had jumped out at Dipper in the living room wearing a frog mask and Dipper screamed loud enough to rattle the Shack to its foundation, tried to blip out of the room, and ended up phased into the wall, stuck halfway between the Shack and the Shop.  
  
The money Stan had made that day on the “Mysterious Half Boy” covered almost half of the renovation costs when he converted the museum into the Library.  
  
Stan was a simple man with no “social graces” as he heard that blonde snooty friend of Mabel’s sniff once. But even he knew not to pull that shit on Henry the first week he moved in.  
  
Week two however, the kid was totally fair game.  
  
He was expecting Henry to fall off of the couch when he leapt around the corner covered in “blood” and wearing a wolf mask. At the very least a good scream, or swearing or really Stan would take any reaction; they were all good for him.  
  
Stan gave his best wolf roar, and Henry immediately flinched away, scrunching his body into the couch, unconsciously making himself smaller. His head ducked down and his legs clenched as if ready to run out of the room. His reaction lasted all of two seconds, utterly instinctual, before Henry recovered himself enough to look at Stan over the tops of his lenses, like one of the old broads that ran the library in Stan’s elementary school.  
  
Normally Stan would take his time and have a good laugh, making sure to point at the object of his prank, call others in to join in on the fun. But as sour as his stomach felt now it was all he could do to let out a weak cackle before fleeing the scene.  
  
Someone else had scared Henry, scared him far more efficiently and effectively than Stan ever would, long before the young man had come to the Shack.  
  
—-

Stan figured it out within two days of Henry living with them.

It took Mabel a while longer, and Dipper even longer still before they found out.

In many ways, despite the hits life threw at them (and the whole demon thing was a pretty fucking big hit) the twins were still innocent in some ways, innocent and ignorant about the darker aspects of human nature. And Mark and Anna, for their faults, never wavered in their love and devotion to the twins.

Mabel eventually came to the same conclusion as Stan had. Or, more likely, Henry told her himself, especially in the outcome of having his parents come to dinner.

He could have told Mabel that that was a terrible idea, that it was going to only end in tears.

But then that would have meant him explaining how  _he_  knew.

—-  
  
Stan took a long swig of beer and let out a heavy sigh of satisfaction. This was the good life. The kids were on the porch with him, watching Gompers chase Dipper around the yard. Well, at least that’s what Mabel said was happening since Dipper wasn’t currently on a plane of existence that Henry and him could see Dip as well. But Mabel wasn’t one to lie about things like that so he took her at her word and laughed when Gompers clearly got something between his teeth.  
  
From her spot on Henry’s lap, Mabel crowed with delight. “HA! He’s got Dipper’s wing!  _Ooooooooh_ is Dipper mad now! He’s actually spitting fire out like a big goofy goober.”  
  
Henry put down his beer and looked down at the top of his fiancée’s head. “Um, shouldn’t we help Dipper? That’s still a part of his body, and I can’t imagine that that is particularly pleasant, even for a demon.”  
  
Mabel reached up giggling to kiss Henry on his cheek. Henry, Stan was amused to notice, still blushed when Mabel did that.   
  
“Don’t worry about Dippingsauce. Worry about us because Dip’s gonna gripe about Gompers for a week now.”  
  
Mabel cocked her head, a puzzled look in her eyes. Her hand brushed Henry’s left cheekbone.  
  
“What’re these?” she asked.  
  
“What’re what?”  
  
“These little shiny pink circles on your cheek. You got like two or three of them.”  
  
Out of the corner of his eye, Stan saw Henry freeze stiff for a second, saw him visibly force himself to relax. “Just little burns I got when I was a kid,” Henry told Mabel as he laid his hand on hers and gently guided it away from his face. “Nothing too big.”  
  
When Mabel moved her hand away, and turned around to settle back into Henry’s lap, Stan snuck a surreptitious look at the young man’s face.  
  
The burns on his face looked exactly like the burn Stan had on his left forearm, from when one of Rico’s men had put their cigarette butt out on his skin.  
  
—-  
If there was one thing Stan had learned from living with nerds, it was that they loved their books. Dipper, even though he supposedly knew everything now and constantly bitched about how all the endings of his stories were spoiled for him, still managed to fill the house with books. And when he and Ford were little, Ma would bust Ford once a week for reading after bed time under the covers. So when the redheaded librarian moved in, Stan sighed and resigned himself to seeing yet even more books lying around the house.

Henry however, kept all of his books in his and Mabel’s bedroom, even after Dipper pointed out that all the bookshelves they were moving in there would make the room kind of cramped.

Stan rarely saw Henry read. Well, more accurately, he rarely  _caught_  Henry reading. Every time he happened to come in the room when Henry was reading, the young man would stiffen and immediately put down his book. Henry didn’t quite go as far as to stuff whatever he was reading at the time in between the couch cushions or hide it behind his back, but Stan could tell that the kid was barely resisting the instinct to do just that.

The one time Stan asked “Whaddya reading there sport?” a blush broke out on Henry’s face and climbed over the back of his neck.

“Oh, nothing interesting,” Henry replied, one hand moving to obscure the title of the book as he closed it. “Just, um, something.” His forehead looked moist and he wouldn’t meet Stan’s eyes.

“That’s…that’s good,” Stan said lamely, and fled the scene.

—

They’d been drinking for….

Henry looked down at the beer in his hand, and at the bottles that littered the ground around the porch swing.

Awhile. A big awhile. Certainly more awhile than he was used to doing. But Stan had greeted him at the door with one of the massive variety packs that Deschutes Brewery only put out three times a year and an invitation to “see if you can drink this geezer under the table.” And Mabel was out with Candy at Karaoke Night, and he had felt…unsettled since his parents had come over for dinner last week, so he took Stan up on his offer.

In the yard, Gompers wandered over to his truck, and peed on one of the tires. A flood of cold air occasionally wafted from the forest, thick with the smell of pine needles and damp earth.

Next to him, Stan burped and said, “Yanno, my dad beat the shit out of me only one time.”

Henry froze.

Stan laughed, a harsh and ugly sound tearing out of his throat. “It wasn’t when I got kicked out; naw I could’ve taken him then!” He gave his chest a few pounds. “Scrappy, that was me, and he knew it! Didn’t want to get his ass beat. No-“

Stan drained half of his bottle of Bud Lite (the beer Henry drank was too “up its own ass” for Stan’s plebian taste buds) and leaned back into the chair.

“No, me and Ford were five or six, and some older kids over when we were walking home from school. They tore Ford’s backpack off and kicked him down and started to step on his fingers. I tried to stand up to them but well. They had over a foot on us so I got the piss kicked out of me.”

Stan was staring very resolutely at his beer bottle, and nothing else.

“When we got home my face was covered in road rash from where they ground it into the street, our nice school clothes were completely ruined and I was blubbering like a big baby.”

“What…what happened next?” a voice asked and Henry was surprised to recognize it as his own.

“My dad took me out back while Ma cleaned Ford’s hands up and thrashed me. One for ruining my school clothes because they didn’t grow on trees, and one for being a big crybaby. Pines’ boys don’t run like sissies to their mommas, you know. Pines’ can’t be licked, can’t be beat.” Stan paused for a second, and then went on. “Every lick he gave me with his belt he told me I needed to get back up, and hit them twice as hard as they hit me. To stop being a coward. Stop being weak.”

Henry was completely frozen now. It felt like the breath had left his body and his beer was perilously close to slipping from his numb fingers.

“The old man signed us up for boxing lessons next week. And that was the first day I realized that I was…I was a big fucking disappointment to him.”

As if Henry was gazing at a distant star, he noticed Stan cough once, twice, and turn his face away from Henry for a minute. Then the old man patted Henry’s knees a few times, the motions jerky and awkward, as if it was costing him a great deal to make the gesture. Then he got up and belched loud and long.

“Well I’m getting another beer. Want one kid?”

Henry’s ribs ached, like they always did when rain was on the horizon, like they had since the day he had tried to rescue a kitten and his dad found him hiding under the bed after Dad had gone to drown the cat.

“Y…yeah. Yeah I’d like that.”

—-

It took time. It was going to take time, even a man like Stan knew that.

But after that night he noticed that Henry didn’t flinch around him any more.


	115. Chapter 115

Mabel rubbed the cold soda can across her forehead, the condensation beading on her skin. The ancient air conditioning unit had gone kaput this morning, and until Henry and Grunkle Stan got back from Sears with the parts to fix it, the house was a swelter box. She had stripped down to her sports bra and an old pair of cutoff shorts and Mabel still felt like she was going to melt.  
  
It didn’t help that she was still worked up from-  
  
 _-a summon at breakfast and he had had a feeling that this was going to be a bad one so he had asked her to come with, and she said yes, of course she did, they were the Mystery Twins. She had grabbed her bat and he grabbed her hand and blipped them to an open field where the soil was drenched with blood-_  
  
-from this morning.  
  
There was a series of thumps, bumps, and shouts coming from the stair case and a minute later her brother burst into the living room, all three of her kids hanging off of him. Hank and Willow were clinging to his legs and giggling as he “tried” to walk to no avail. Acacia was scrambling around his neck and back like a tiny red squirrel. Mabel winced as her five year old not so carefully grabbed hold of one of Dipper’s wings and yelled “It’s just like blanket!”  
  
“Acacia, be gentle with Uncle Dipper-” Mabel started but her twin interrupted.   
  
“Nah, it’s okay Mabes I promise.” He twitched his wings and Acacia squealed with laughter.  
  
“Well I’m not the one that’s going to suffer-”  
  
 _-suffer, they were going to suffer for what they did, she thought as her and Dipper saw the too tiny bodies laid out on the ground before them, bodies that were the same height as her daughters, her son. But Dipper had a role to play before they were able to get to work so even as she hid herself in the smoke of his arrival, he pretended that the circles that had been laid down to bind him, ensorcel him, force him to work their will actually worked. He said_ -

“-when you teach them bad habits.”

Dipper sniffed and she blew a raspberry at him. Mabel leaned her head back against the wall, closing her eyes and letting the slight breeze that was coming in from the open windows in the other room blow over her skin. The kids and Dipper were now roughhousing, rolling around on the floor in a big black and orange blur. Dipper grabbed Hank off of his perch on his shoulders, his hat perched on his nephew’s head, and began to tickle him, hands-

_\- that had dug into one man’s stomach even as she guarded his back, hands that had only a second ago plunged into the leader’s chest and ripped out his still beating heart, hands-_

-missing their usual gloves, Dipper’s claws blunted as not to hurt the triplets. Hank futilely tried to tickle his Uncle in turn, but to no avail.

“Aim for behind his knees Hank!” Mabel called. Dipper’s mouth dropped in a perfect O of betrayal and sadness.

“Sold out by my own sister!” he cried, before crumpling to the floor in giggles of his own, as Willow snuck up and got Dipper in his ticklish spot. He quickly flipped over and pinned Willow down, lifting her shirt and placing

_-his mouth bit down as she watched on the last glowing orb that she had long ago had learned was a soul, double rows of fangs covered in blood. Dipper had made quick work of the seven assembled; he hadn’t needed her, not really. Not when he was able to cross the circles, able to demolish the petty lies the leader of this scheme had woven around his followers. His lips were peeled back in a mockery of a smile and laughter, horrible laughter that froze her to her bones was spilling out of his mouth as seven other bodies joined the ones already on-_

-stomach and burbled Willow loud and long. She squealed and kicked her legs. “Uncle Dipper noooooo!” she cried out between laughs. “Stop-

_-it!” She had slapped him once, twice across the face, and the look on his face froze her blood to the bone. “How̶ d͡a̛re ̢yo͞ú?” he growled at her and she could feel his power beat on the air. That wasn’t her brother looking at her that was….no. That was her brother. This was her twin, this was Dipper, and that was the problem wasn’t it? There was no separating the demon from the person she loved, the horrific things Alcor did from her dweeby brobro. But she could hear sirens and they needed to get out of here, needed Dipper to come back to his senses. “Please-“_

“Dipper, don’t make the kids laugh so hard they pee on the floor,” Mabel languidly said from her position on the couch. This of course only drew more giggles and titters from her children. Dipper got up and brushed himself off, to a chorus of awwwws.

“Nope, sorry kids, I’m done for now. I hear your dad and Grunkle coming up the road.” He turned to Mabel. “This morning isn’t going to last much longer; can you-?”

Her stomach soured at the mention of what had happened that morning, but Mabel slapped a smile on her face and went “Help Stan and Henry with the AC and you can have double dessert tonight.”

“Triple.”

Mabel held up a hand and Dipper high fived it, a little clap of blue fire puffing in the air above their enjoined palms.

“Can we watch?” Acacia asked. “Yeah, Grunkle Stan says funny stuff when he and Daddy fix things,” Hank chimed in.  Dipper put his hands on his hips, his wings flapping a bit to keep him slightly off the floor. “Have you three cleaned your room like your mom asked earlier?”

They suddenly looked shifty and Dipper pointed upstairs. “Room first, then you can watch.”

The three of them tripped over themselves to run up the stairs. Dipper watched them go and then blipped out to help Stan and Henry unload the truck, leaving Mabel alone with her thoughts once again.

For the thousandth time, Mabel wondered if she had done the right thing by keeping her brother by her side, by tying him so closely to her life, to her family. Her kids lived with a literal demon, made deals with him like it was nothing. The worst thing was, she would have never chose differently. Dipper could have been ten times worse, a hundred thousand billion times worse. He could have been a monster all the time instead of some of the time, and her traitor heart would still have stuck by him anyway. What did that make her?

_-“It makes you Mabel, Mabel,” Henry had said with a small smile that night as they curled up in bed together. “It makes you the person I love, Dipper loves. Maybe it’s not normal, our lives but-“he shrugged, his arms lifting off of her quickly before returning back down again. “-but who’s normal? Really?” He gave her a big squeeze._

_“We just have to do the best we can.”_


	116. Chapter 116

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> Mabel takes her driving test.

Floyd Curl had worked at the small DMV in his home town of Gravity Falls for thirty years, and even before the Transcendence he had seen it all. Twenty gnomes in a trenchcoat driving a fifteen passenger van for their test. A woman wearing a fur coat in the middle of August without breaking a sweat. Endless cars that smelt sweetly skunky and scores of sweaty and terrified teenagers. Riding in an actual god damn cherry red Rolls Royce for Pacifica Northwest’s test. A car adapted for a mermaid to use. And that was just the tip of the iceberg.  
  
Yes, Floyd sat confident that he had seen the weirdest and the worst that Gravity Falls could through at him. He was the unflappable king of the Department of Motor Vehicles and nothing could faze him.  
  
Until Mabel Pines walked in one day.  
  
—-  
  
“Who brought you here?” Floyd asked as he stepped into the passenger side of the impossibly old land yacht this girl would be taking her test in. The only person he saw in the waiting room was surely too old to be her father-grandfather maybe?  
  
The young woman-Mabel Pines according to his paperwork, finished adjusting the two pillows that let her see over the wheel and buckled in. “That’s my Grunkle Stan! He’s the one that taught me how to drive!”  
  
A cold sweat broke out over Floyd, and tried to remind himself not to be ridiculous. There were many elderly drivers on the road and they did just fine! And after all, he was getting older himself, he had no room to talk. The young lady next to him seemed like she had a good head on her shoulders, and having an older relative teach her probably meant they went through everything in the little guide book. This was going to go just fine.  
  
Mabel turned the ignition and the old engine somehow started, rumbling and vibrating the entire car. Floyd pointed out to two concrete bumpers in the parking lot. “Okay, first thing I’d like you to do is parallel park between those two slabs.”  
  
“Um…parallel park?”  
  
“Yes, just ease your car between those two bumpers, and then we can go on to the next part of the test.”  
  
An air of nervousness suddenly descended on the once cheerful girl. “Um, Grunkle Stan only showed me that once. He said I should make my own parking spaces if I couldn’t find them.”  
  
Floyd resisted the urge to automatically demerit her for this portion of the test, instead only saying, “Well, it’s not that hard, I promise. Why don’t you give it a try?”

Fifteen minutes of jerking back and forth in the same place over and over again and easing six inches in and out of the space later, Floyd pinched his nose, then made a note.

“Let’s…let’s just go onto the next part of the test shall we?”

Mabel immediately brightened.

“Okay!”

She then gunned the engine and drove over one of the concrete bumpers, and Floyd’s head hit the ceiling.

—

The steel frame of the old El Diablo was rattling.

The seats, bolted into the frame, were rattling.

The fuzzy dice that hung from the rearview mirror were perfectly still, somehow.

Floyd’s teeth and bones, on the other hand, were currently being jangled to pieces.

His eyes flicked to the speedometer. Somehow, most likely by sucking the magic from the ground underneath it’s tires, the old car was doing 119 an hour. He also noticed the gas slowly but surely dropping, and of course, it felt like it was going to rattle into a million pieces at any second, but the car was doing it.

“Miss Pines, it usually takes twenty minutes on the highway to reach Bend.”

Mabel nodded, intensely concentrating on the road ahead of her, hands steady on the wheel and unperturbed by the rattling of the car.

“We should be there, by my calculation, in nine.”

Mabel nodded. “My best record is eight minutes!”

They sailed past a sign and Floyd gritted out, “You do know the speed limit is 65 yes?”

“Grunkle Stan told me speed limit signs were suggestions not like, things you have to  _actually_ follow.”

Then Mabel swerved across three lanes of traffic and Floyd’s life flashed before his eyes.

—-

While they didn’t blow through the stop signs like Floyd had feared, on the other hand….

“Miss Pines, you are aware what the word ‘stop’ means, correct?”

“Of course!” Mabel laughed. “Grunkle Stan told me that as long as I don’t see any cars coming ahead, I could do a California stop and roll through.”

Floyd was beginning to develop both a migraine and a hatred of the elderly man waiting for his niece back at the DMV.

They reached a school zone and suddenly Floyd could only see kindergarteners bouncing off of the bumper and flying into the air in the near future, bikes snarled in the fender and a road crossing guard chasing after them.  To his complete shock, Mabel slowed to twenty, looking constantly around her and stopping at every sign.

“You’re driving norm-good. Very good right now Miss Pines.”

“Grunkle Stan said I always had to be careful by schools because kids are dumb and run out in the road which  _I think_  is a little mean, especially since I never ran out in the road though that’s because Dipper usually grabbed me but-“

As Mabel rambled on, Floyd gave one begrudging point to Grunkle Stan for not fucking that up at least. Then Mabel gunned the engine once again as they left the school zone, and Floyd made a mental note to stop by the liquor store on the way home.

—

Forty five long,  _long_  minutes later, they had finally returned to the DMV. Mabel parked her car, taking up three spaces somehow, turned the car off, and looked expectantly at Floyd.

“How’d I do? Did I pass?!”

“ _Did you pass?_ ” Floyd breathed in through his nose, out of his mouth, and looked down at his sheet.

“You not once used your turn signals, half of the turns you took you went over the curb, you almost never stayed in your lane-“

“I’ve always colored outside of the lines!”

“-you adjusted your mirrors when you were on the highway and almost crashed, you slowed to forty to let a truck on and almost caused  _another_ crash, you turned left on red, you… you….”

Floyd felt his skin literally turning red.

“You have f-“

Suddenly, walking by the car window, Floyd caught the eye of an inoffensive looking young man. He was dressed more formally than even Floyd, in a dress shirt and cuff links. His fluffy brown hair seemed like it was begging to be crowned with some kind of hat. He caught Floyd’s eyes through the window and smiled.

No…noth…nothing  _human_  had teeth like that, overlapping and protruding fangs, far too many teeth to fit into a mortal mouth. The…the  _thing_  and oh Christ his eyes were yellow and the white of his eyes were bleeding black and fuck  _fuck_ pointed at the sheet full of demerits, then to Miss Pines still looking expectedly at him, then to the demerit sheet again. He grinned somehow even  _wider_  before disappearing into a puff of blue smoke.

Suddenly Floyd couldn’t get Miss Pines out of his car fast enough.

“Youvepassedgetyourlicenseinsidehaveagoodday!”

He ran out of the car, not even bothering to give Miss Pines her demerit sheet, and ran until he got to the break room, where he hid under the table and meebled.

That demon wanted Miss Pines to pass? Fine. Floyd just hoped that after _never_  coming near him again, the other thing the demon did would be to make sure Mabel Pines didn’t kill herself or anyone else on the road.

(When it came time for Mabel to take the triplets in to get their driver licenses, she had no idea why the elderly man who seemed vaguely familiar took one look at them, and then screamed like a banshee and dove behind the counter. Maybe he ate something funny?)


	117. Chapter 117

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> Henry meets/spends some time with Candy and Grenda early in his relationship with Mabel.

Henry had been going out with Mabel for two weeks when he met her best friends for the first time.

He read the sign over Candy’s small downtown storefront, as he pulled the truck into the parking lot. 

“‘Blades, Bombs, and Bazookas’? Mabel um, I’m pretty sure two-thirds of that is illegal.”

Mabel pshawed. “Henry, it’s like Grunkle Stan always told me; ‘everything is legal when there’s no cops around!’”

Henry pointed silently to the cop cruiser parked outside.

“Durland likes all the B’s in the sign and Blubs collects knives; he’s the seventeen time jack-o-melon carver in town after all,” Mabel explained nonchalantly, waving to an enrapt Durland sitting in the cruiser.

Henry gave up.

They got out of the truck and stepped inside. Instantly Henry was surrounded by weapons of mass and individual destruction. Every square inch was crammed with guns (ranging from flintlock to laser), blades of every conceivable length and width, bombs, bats, brass knuckles, balaclavas and gun holsters knitted by Mabel…. Before he could get completely overwhelmed, Mabel had grabbed him by the hand and begun to drag him through the store.

“They’re out back in the Proving Grounds!”

“Proving Grounds?” Henry asked weakly.

“Well, it sounds a lot cooler than just saying the empty lot out back. Duh silly!”

—

“CANDY! GRENDA!” Mabel ran over to her best friends, arms windmilling, and Henry tried not to grin from how… well, how adorable his girlfriend was. 

Grenda, a pumpkin under one arm, waved as she stepped out of her shop, PETS! (which  _was_  the name of her pet store, capital letters and all) and into the shared yard. Candy waved, or did her best to wave under an armful of guns and  _oh god what if she dropped one_. Henry tried to remember that a woman as smart and capable (and running a weapons shop) would have them all unloaded and the safety on. 

He looked across the yard as the other two women placed their stuff on a battered old kitchen table that had obviously spent time in the yard and hugged Mabel. All along the fence line and in the grass were hundreds of tiny char marks, from laser fire…or, knowing what he had been told about Candy, regular fire as well. Henry smiled to see that the large pine tree in the yard had a tire swing hanging from it, for when Soos brought his kids over. Set up against the fence was another battered Formica table, with five or six pumpkins on it, each pumpkin bearing a target tacked or painted on.

“What are we trying out today ladies?” Mabel asked, quivering with excitement as she looked at the pile of guns.

“My latest prototype,” Candy replied, no small amount of pride in her voice. “It shoots five lasers out at once, and it  _should_  be able to hit all the pumpkins on the table in one go.” She frowned at the pumpkins.

“Mabel, I forgot to grab our aprons and safety glasses. Can you go inside and get them please?”

“Of course!” Mabel gave Henry a squeeze then skipped merrily inside. As soon as the door shut behind her it felt to Henry like the temperature in the yard dropped fifteen degrees. Candy and Grenda were standing shoulder to shoulder, a unified front. Suddenly, Henry had an idea what this was about.

“You know, we’ve met all of Mabel’s girlfriends and boyfriends,” Candy said conversationally, picking up the prototype and sighting down the barrel. 

“I, um, that makes sense.”

“We didn’t like any of them!” Grenda joined in, tossing her pumpkin up and down in the air. 

Henry kept silent.

“You know why we use pumpkins for testing Henry?” Candy sweetly asked.

He saw where they were going but played along. “Because they’re cheap at the store?”

“Because they’re like human heads!” Grenda answered. She squeezed and the pumpkin in her hands exploded under the force of her arms.

“Yes, what Grenda said.” With no warning, Candy turned and shot the prototype at the remaining pumpkins on the table. Five lasers emerged from the point of the gun, hitting each pumpkin square in the middle of the target. Pumpkin seed and flesh flew everywhere, coating the table, the fence, the grass, and their shoes in pumpkin goop.

Candy looked at Henry, who despite himself felt his mouth drop at the pumpkincide. “Since I’ve started the shop I have learned many things. Like the every weakness of the human body. And I know how to use every weapon in my shop.”

“My toy chimaeras like to eat human corpses!” Grenda chimed in. “It’d only take them seventeen seconds!”

Candy poked a  finger into Henry’s side.

“You understand what we are saying and…and…” Candy frowned. “Why are you smiling?”

“You should be quaking with fear and unadulterated terror!” Grenda bellowed.

Henry tried to force the smile off of his face but found he couldn’t.

“I’m sorry Candy, I’m sorry Grenda but I’m just… I’m just happy that Mabel has friends that care about her and love her like you two do. I can’t promise that we won’t break up or that we won’t hurt each other but I promise that if I ever _do_  leave Mabel’s life-” He paused at the pang in his heart and stomach that came at that thought. “If we  _do_ break up, I won’t break her down or make her think less of herself.”

Candy and Grenda looked at him for a second, and then at each other.

Finally, Candy turned back to Henry and offered him her hand. “Let’s start again. I’m Candy Chiu.”

“And I’m Grenda!” Grenda said, claiming Henry’s other hand.

“It’s nice to meet you both,” Henry said, shaking both their hands at once. “We should probably clean this up before Mabel comes back out though.”

“No, it’s okay! We’ll just call it a weapon malfunction. Besides, I have a bow and arrow we can try out on the tinier pieces.”

(Several years later, when it came time to toast Henry and Mabel at their wedding, Candy gave the full story to Mabel for the first time, and was pleased to see Henry blush bright red.)


	118. Chapter 118

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> What was Mabel's last relationship before Henry like?

Not great.

A year before Mabel met Henry, she had a six month relationship with a girl named Heather Sawyer, a fellow Californian with curly blonde hair and an infectious laugh. And for awhile, things went great! Heather met Dipper and they actually got along well and Heather didn’t seem creeped out by the fact that Dipper was a demon. Towards the end, Mabel even began wondering if Heather was The One. 

Heather, on the other hand, didn’t feel the same.

Thus one day Dipper felt himself pulled towards the Shack, called by his family circle….and bound by his True Name by his sister’s girlfriend.

Heather offers Dipper (offers  _him!_ ) a deal. He does what she wants-puts some hard cash in her account, a new car, maybe a seat in Congress, nothing too crazy-and she doesn’t tell the world the True Name of Alcor the Dreambender.

Dipper laughs in her face, because all and sundry having his True Name….that, that would be a big problem, no bones about it, but he is a demon. What he can’t weasel his way out of he can wait out. Hell he’s bound by Heather now, but all he needs is one slip up on her part and he’s good. 

Then she brings up Mabel and Dipper grows still. Heather smiles and how did DIpper miss that nasty edge to it before? 

Yes, wouldn’t it be interesting if people found out that the grand and terrible Alcor had a human family? Had a great-uncle (stop), had parents ( _stop_ ), that Mizar wasn’t another demon but his sister (S̗̠͈T̗͠O͉̬̺̗̣̬̠P̫̫.)

Heather drops the smile. Names, addresses, other personal information; she’ll blast it all out over the internet and to every news outlet she can unless Dipper does what she says (and oh doesn’t it gall him to have this woman call her Dipper, call him by the name he trusted her with and is now his jail.)

Dipper is well and truly fucked….and that’s when Mabel steps into the room.

Mabel who was coming into the kitchen to get a glass of milk and heard voices coming from the living room.

Mabel with tears streaking down her face, betrayed by the woman she loved.

Mabel with a bat in her hands because no one,  _no one,_  threatens or hurts her brother.

Once the circle is broken, and Heather is made at bat point to let Dipper free of his bonds, there is the question of what to do with her. She lives…but only because Mabel points out to Dipper that they’re supposed to be better than her, better than that. 

Heather lives…but she moves as far away from Oregon as soon as possible. She spends the rest of her life operating a ham radio station out of the Falkland Islands, and never falls asleep with the lights out again.

Mabel sobs herself to sleep in Dipper’s arms that night, and he’s worried that something precious and beautiful in his sister has been irreparably broken.

But.

While Mabel hurts, and fuck does Heather’s betrayal hurt, and she takes some time to lick her wounds and mope…. eventually she starts putting herself out there again because Mabel knows that its better to get back on the horse that bucked you off than to never try again.

It is in that mood (and with a few beers to relax her and Wendy’s vouchsafe) that Mabel meets Henry at a party ten months later. 


	119. Chapter 119

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> Dipper failing at his human disguise and not realising he still has teeny buttwings, or glowing gold eyes and claws.

“You don’t gotta hide from us.”

Dipper looked up from the menu with a start at Lazy Susan. He and Mabel had been back in town for two weeks, and Stan, sensing that Mabel was still upset about….about their parents had brought her to Greasy’s for some cheer up pancakes. Dipper was corporeal for this trip, a deal made in exchange for as many pancakes as he could eat.

So Dipper had blunted his teeth and nails, and tried not to think about how weak and defenseless he felt without them. He let the color bleed from his eyes, felt his ears round out, and let his wings melt into his back. He switched his clothes to his old familiar vest and shorts, an outfit that had once been comforting but now seemed to itch and burn, a reminder of everything he had lost. He was playing at being Dipper Pines, sixteen and almost a junior in high school and he was keenly aware of how wrong it felt to play at being human and he couldn’t even concentrate on this menu and-

Mabel giggled as Lazy Susan looked on knowingly.

“Dipdops you got little nubbins sticking out of your back!”

“And one of your eyes is wonky kid,” Stan chimed in, pointing to the left side of Dipper’s face with a fork.

Before Dipper had a chance to bolt back to the Mindscape, to become invisible or  _something_ to fix this disaster Mabel laid a hand on his shoulder, her touch the only real thing in his world. “Dipper calm down. You haven’t gotten pancakes yet brobro.”

Lazy Susan smiled at Dipper. “You don’t have to hide here big guy. We know who you are. And we know what you did.”

Mayor Tyler, who had been sitting with his husband in the booth behind them, popped up over the back of the seat. “Anyone give you trouble, I’ll get em!” 

All around the little diner, everyone joined in in assuring Dipper, from Blubs and Durland, to Toby, to Free Pizza Guy, to even Meredith and her wife. 

“I…I…” Dipper was dumbfounded. 

Mabel leaned her head on his shoulder.

“We’re home now Dipper. Relax.”

Home.

They were home. 


	120. Chapter 120

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> Mable and Stan going on zany adventures (and hopefully not too gore-y..?)

Mabel was sitting behind the wheel of Stan’s old El Diablo knitting a beanie for Soos and Melody’s new baby, when her ears picked up the sounds of things crashing and breaking. Mabel wasn’t, she was afraid, much surprised. She gently tossed her knitting into the backseat, summoned her bat and laid it across her lap, and turned the car engine on. As she did, there was the crash of shattering glass, and Grunkle Stan doing a barrel roll through the window of the small bungalow she was parked outside of. Spilling out of the window and the front door were several burly men, all armed to the teeth and none of them looking happy.

Stan jumped into the car, Mabel having already opened the passenger door for him, and she gunned the engine as he shut the door. They peeled off of the lawn and sailed onto the street, clearing the curb and a tiny bit of air in doing so.

“Grunkle Stan! You said you were going to pay them! Money! Like we talked about!”

Stan reached inside of his suit jacket and pulled out a small leather bound book.

“They wouldn’t accept my offer pumpkin, and you  _know_  this book is too dangerous to leave in their hands. Dipper said so!”

Mabel turned the wheel to the right suddenly, and the car somehow made it on to two wheels, in time to dodge some gunfire from the other car.

“Did you offer them all your money?”

“Yes! Of course I did!”

“Then why do I see some twenties poking out of your shirt sleeve?”

“Mabel shouldn’t you be looking at the road?” Stan turned as best as he could to peer out of the back window. “They’re gaining on us!”

“I…gosh  _darn it to biscuits_ Grunkle Stan! You’re…you’re getting-“

“DUCK!”

Mabel swerved around the duck in the middle of the road and took the opportunity to send the car sailing down a side street at the last second. She gunned the engine yet again and made a series of rapid turns, pushing the El Diablo to its limits in her efforts to lose their tail. The next few minutes were filled with a terse silence, as Mabel drove through the streets of Bend. Finally, they hit the highway, and Mabel flicked the headlights back on. They both leaned back in their seats with a sigh.

“That was close,” Stan said, taking out a handkerchief and wiping some sweat off his forehead.

“ _Too_  close,” Mabel muttered.

Stan failed to pick up on the mood emitting from his niece. “I knew you’d get us away no problem kiddo. Thank you Mabel.”

“Grunkle Stan, you’re getting too old for this.”

Stan drew himself up. “Too old?  _Too old?!_  What next, are you going to put me in a home or feed me soft food or-“

Mabel pounded on the wheel out of frustration and accidentally honked the horn.

“ _No_ Grunkle Stan I meant we almost got caught and what if you hadn’t been able to dive out the window? What if you hadn’t run to the car fast enough? What if one of those bullets had hit you?”

The streetlights above as they sped down the highway turned Mabel’s face orange and showed him the streaks of tears running down her cheeks.

“I’m…Grunkle Stan I don’t want you to stop, but I want you to…I want you to…I want you to stop being a big dumbo head. Please?”

Mabel sniffed and Stan felt his heart sink into his stomach. Honestly, he could have parted with the last few hundred dollars with no problem, but it was just a force of habit to hold back, to save ( and don’t come back until you’ve made us a fortune.) Hell he even wasn’t that attached to his own skin….

But Mabel was.

Fuck. He fucked up.

“I… I promise kiddo. I can’t promise that I won’t be in danger again but I’ll…try and not be such a big, um, what did you say?”

“Dumbo head,” Mabel said, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth.

“I promise to just shut up and give them the money next time and not be a big dumbo head.”

“Deal?” Mabel asked.

Stan laid a hand on his niece’s shoulder.

“Deal.”


	121. Chapter 121

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt
> 
> "Mabel and Henry bonding time"

Henry opened his eyes.

Large brown eyes met his gaze, a button nose less than an inch from his own.

The first three times Mabel had spent the night with him and woken him up like this, Henry had screamed and jumped enough to send Mabel laughing off the bed and on to the floor. But by now he was used to it, so he sleepily wrapped his arms around her and gathered her close to him. Mabel squeaked with delight then giggled into his chest, burrowing her nose in his chest hair.

“If you aren’t careful, you’re going to wake up everyone in the house,” Henry warned, not entirely teasingly. Uncle Dan’s house had thick sturdy log walls, but very thin doors.  In response, Mabel only blew a raspberry into Henry’s chest, a challenge which Henry met by immediately going for Mabel’s ribs with his long fingers.

After the resulting tickle fest (Mabel was  _very_  ticklish but Henry had a weak spot or two) had settled down, Mabel blew a tuft of her hair off her face.

“What do you wanna do today?”

“Um, I’m not sure.”

“We could…go fishing?” Mabel offered.

Henry paused.

He loved Mabel, he really did, couldn’t believe that they had only been going out for only three months and already couldn’t imagine life without her.

But Mabel plus fishing almost always ended up in an unmitigated disaster, mainly because she could sit still for only an hour before she went nuts with boredom. Maybe it would have helped if she fished herself… but considering that the first time they went out, Mabel made up names and life stories for each of the fish in his bucket, Henry never asked. That trip had ended with her ‘accidentally’ knocking the bucket over and letting the fish free.  She would go swimming around the boat and scare the fish off. Or talk her friends among the school of naiads that lived in the lake…who not only scared the fish off but, and Henry felt terrible even thinking it but it was true, had a piercing dolphin like squeak to their voices that hurt his ears.

And the less said about the trip that ended in Mabel riding MegaBeaver the better. With one slap of his tail, the massive animal had emptied half the lake and sent Henry’s boat flying through the air.

“I’m okay; I still got some fish in the freezer.” Henry paused. What would Mabel like to do, what would she like to do…. “Maybe we can scrapbook?” he asked.

Mabel paused.

Henry was the light of her life, her snuffle boo moose pants, her tall person, her everything… but he really,  _really_ didn’t get scrapbooking.

There were the forty minute mini-lectures on the pH levels of different kinds of paper, the acidity of ink and how what was readable now would be completely bled through in three hundred years, and the dangers of glue and tape. There were the incredibly pained looks that crossed his face whenever she took scissors and cut a cutie jagged edge around her photos, or when she used Elmer’s Glue to stick newspaper articles in. The fact that she used newspaper clippings period led to another thirty minute diatribe about the inherent frailty of newsprint. He didn’t appreciate glitter as much as she did, much less when she dumped some in her hair and did the same for him.

And of course, there was the time Henry glued his hand to his face on accident with her Super Turbo Glue and it took three hours and demonic intervention to free him.  

They looked at each other for a second, caught at a standstill. The problem, Mabel suddenly realized, was that they were trying too hard to please each other. Just because they were a couple didn’t mean they had to share _everything_. She thought fishing was boring as heck, and Mabel knew that Henry wasn’t one for scrapbooking or golf cart jousting or dumping food dye into the toilet tank to see what happened. They were allowed to do their own things and that was okay! What they should do is find new things to do together….

Suddenly, Mabel had an idea.

“Have I ever taken you exploring in the forest around the Shack?” she asked.

Henry smiled.

“I don’t think you have.”

“Well as soon as you throw some clothes on-“Mabel thought about it. “Okay not  _too_ soon, but when you do, I’ll show you my favorite places. There’s a waterfall and this neat place with crystals and this one circle where I beat up some unicorns once and-“

Henry laughed and held up his hands. “Hey, leave some surprises for me okay?”

Mabel kissed him on the lips in response which led to further things and a morning pleasantly spent.

(The afternoon ended with them running into a wild griffin and her litter of grifflets. To his amazement, the griffin nudged Mabel towards the nest and soon Mabel was laughing and covered in tiny griffin kits. She looked at him, feathers in her hair and a bit of spit up on her shirt, and he realized, truly realized for the first time, that he was in love with this woman.)


	122. Chapter 122

Henry sighed at his eldest daughter. One alert from Dipper, a trip to the nearest urgent care clinic, and three hundred dollars later, they were finally home. 

He looked at Acacia, sitting at the kitchen table, legs swinging because she couldn’t reach the ground, and looking not the least bit remorseful. Henry knew he shouldn’t expect the entire truth from a four year old but he had to try. 

“Acacia, why did you shove a blue crayon up your nose? I  _know_  you know better.”

“To blow blue snot!”

“And you ate all of Mommy’s glitter because-?”

“I wanted to puke rainbows like Jeff does when Mommy kicks him in the stomach and tells him to stop being creepy!”

The apple of his eye, the light of his life, burst into giggles, and Henry pinched his nose. 

How on earth was he going to punish this child?


	123. Chapter 123

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt "supernatural expert Stanley Pines!"
> 
> This one got a liiiiitle long lol.

Within two weeks of losing his brother, Stan realized that Ford’s cabin wasn’t the only place where weird shit could be found.   
  
There were the little men he found rooting around in his trash alongside the raccoons-the first time he thought he was hallucinating, the fourth time he was shooing them away with a broom or his shotgun, whichever was closer to hand. Or the shadow of something far, far too big to be a catfish in the lake. He wasn’t entirely sure what was up with the rubes running around in red robes but considering how everyone seemed to Not Notice them at all, Stan had a feeling that it was best to avoid their attention. And the less said about the gang of weird man-bull guys who tried to rip the totem pole out of the yard the better.   
  
That fucking journal Ford had thrown at him helped a bit but his brother….Stan shook his head. Ford had always loved weird things, loved knowing what others didn’t, but the whole code thing was a bit much. He already had gotten his first ever library card just to get the few books on codebreaking that the small library in town had. Outside of the journal however, Ford had few other books lying around. A large and recently used firepit outside with mounds of papery ash all around, but nothing useful, nothing that would help Stan get used to the weird world he found himself thrust into.   
  
It was at that point, lying on the couch and doing little to no sleeping, and spending his days frantically putting together something to start showing the rubes, that he remembered Lou.

  
Lou Sanders was, until a few weeks ago, a complete nutso in Stan’s eyes. He lived in a trailer just over the border in California and was always going on about spookums and ghosts and what nots. Half the time he opened the door wearing a tin foil hat and his shirt on inside out “so the fair folk don’t take me!” Stan put up with all of that because Lou was an excellent fence and sold good guns at low prices, no questions asked. Lou, now that Stan thought about it, was constantly swimming in piles and mountains of books, most with titles in languages he had no clue of what they were.

Perhaps tomorrow he’d go out, see his old friend. He’d get some ammo because he was almost out from all the pot shots he had been taking at the tiny men in his trash (he was getting soft as he got old; he was aiming to shoot their hats off not their heads.) They’d have a business transaction, finish with a glass of whisky and a friendly chat and then…  
  
Stan would ask about the wide world of book collecting.  
  
  ——-   
  
Stan looked out of the window at the empty parking lot. An empty chip wrapper blew across the ground, chased by Gompers. He looked away from the parking lot and to the clock. Just past four o’ clock and they hadn’t had not even a lost motorist in for the last-Stan counted in his head-six days.   
  
Upstairs he heard thumps and squeals, and he knew without looking that Mabel and Dipper were chasing each other around again. Good. It was good for them to just be goofy dumb kids.  
  
Goofy dumb kids that weren’t having to live with their great-uncle. Who were both normal and human, and went to school and on dates, kids who were thinking about college and the future and never had to see or do things that made even Stan turn away.   
  
Stan sighed. Even thought he had finally paid off the mortgage on the Shack last year, and Dipper only needed a bag of candy to last him for a few months, he and Mabel still needed food, water, and firewood to last through the winter. And if there hadn’t been a single visitor in six days, it had been five months since he last led a full group of tourists through the shack, eight months since the last bus came by. Only the bit of money that Mark and Anna sent Stan to help him take care of the kids kept food in the pantry, and they were three months overdue on the electric bill. It was getting to the point that Stan was going to have to start hitting up the stash he had put aside for Mabel for her college or… or if the Shack somehow got taken away from him again, because he was goddamned if the kids would ever go homeless again.   
  
Stan sighed.  
  
It was time to admit what he hadn’t wanted to.  
  
The Mystery Shack was over. There was no need for it any more, not when the magical had become…not mundane, it was still too soon for that. But there was no need to seek out wonder, especially fake hokey wonder, now that the magical and the supernatural were out for all to see. Rubes didn’t want to be scared and spooked any more, not when there were real threats in the world. No, what was all the rage now was knowledge. People were going back over every fairy tale, looking up musty old books that had long since dismissed as complete hokum. They weren’t interested in buying what he was selling any more, not when the truth was more valuable than fantasy. It was a shame that Stan couldn’t attract any eggheads to the Shack-  
  
“Gr̛͔̥̼̹̩̖͕u͖n͍k̫͓͕l͈e͈͙̟͔͈̠ͅ S̨ṯ͖a̖̺͇̥̟n̮̫͇̬!̴̙̝̜”  
  
Stan schooled his face to hide the laughter that threatened to bubble up and out of him as Dipper suddenly appeared in the gift shop. Dipper was already self-conscious enough as it was about the more magical changes tearing through his body. As tempting as it was, he didn’t need Stan laughing at the fact that his nephew, the most fearsome demon on the planet, was still only seventeen and had a voice that cracked whenever he was upset.  
  
“What’s got your goat kid?” Stan rasped, leaning across the counter.

  
“Ş̷t̛̛́a̡͞͠n-“Dipper coughed and started again, his voice going to its normal level of slight reverb. “Stan, why didn’t you ever tell me you had a copy of _QrqKxqfOleuxp VhulrTxrg GlflpxvKrfSdfwr_?!”  
  
“Uh…”  
  
Dipper began pacing across the floor of the gift shop, a habit he had never lost, even though know he usually floated rather than walk across the old pine boards of the floor.  
  
“Do you know how many people have summoned me asking for a copy? I’ve literally seen people kill trying to get a peek at one of the pages and Mabel found it propping the door in the attic and I…I…I…” Dipper grabbed fistfuls of hair in his clawed hands and wordlessly screamed for a second, everything rattling in the Shack even though no sound emerged from his nephew’s mouth.  
  
Suddenly Stan remembered why the name of that book sounded so familiar.  
  
 “Oh yeah, that piece of crap! Honestly, there’s more real shit in  _Aqra li min Fadlik_ but it just gets overlooked because…Dipper? Dipper why are you looking at me all weird?” He began to pick at his dentures, in case he had food in there from breakfast.  
  
“Where…where did you get that book at?” Dipper asked weakly.   
  
Stan shrugged. “A friend of a friend; why do you care again Dipper? I got a hundred better books than that. Books that’ll put some hair on your chest!”  
  
“Books? Like plural?”  
  
Stan shrugged. “Yeah? What’s got your goat kid? You’re acting weirder than usual.”  
  
“C-..ca…” Dipper struggled to get the question out, requests being not something demons usually engaged in. “Can you show me? If you have any other books like that?” Dipper finally spat out.   
  
Shrugging, and not worrying about switching the sign on the door from ‘closed’ to ‘open’ since there obviously was no one coming, Stan led Dipper down into the basement, and to the hidden stairs that served as the fire escape for the lab, hidden stairs with a small storage space and-  
  
“ _Liber Juratis_?! The real version?! And the unexpurgated Lovecraft?! Stan… how long have you had all of this?”  
  
“Since before you two yahoos started coming around here.” Stan laughed at Dipper’s gaping mouth. “Give your Grunkle some credit kid. Living in this town, you either learn quick or….” Stan thought. “Probably not die but life would be a lot more annoying.”  
  
Dipper slowly shook his head. “All this time…all that summer the answers were under my feet the whole time. Stan, why didn’t you tell me about this?”  
  
“I was trying to keep you both away from all this shit-” Stan paused for a second. Would things have been different if he had been honest with them in the beginning? “Not that it did any good,” Stan finally went on. “And then after…. Honestly Dipper until you brought it up I forgot about all these old piles. They helped when I was looking for…for Ford but after a while I didn’t need them.”  
  
Dipper picked up another book with a worn leather cover and blew the dust off the cover.  
  
“Holy shit-Stan this one is like, the holy grail for people studying lycanthropy. I know of six professors that’d do anything to get their hands on this. And some librarians too.”

As Dipper continued to pick through the piles and piles of books, his voice getting squeakier and squeakier, Stan felt the beginning of an idea pop up in his head.  People would do  _anything_  eh?

“Hey Dipper, make you a deal. How bout you put all of these things upstairs for me in the gift shop and in turn I’ll get you a steak.”

“Raw.”

“Of course. Saves me the gas.”

Dipper looked longingly at the book pile, flickering in and out, clearly tiring.

“Give me fifteen minutes to go into town kiddo, okay?”

Dipper smiled in reply, fangs overlapping fangs. Maybe things would have been different if he had been honest with them from the beginning, if Dipper had run across the stash of books in the basement….If, if, if. Too many goddamn ifs. Maybe things would have been different or maybe they would have just ended up the same, but what mattered was the kids he had living with him now, not the may have been versions of them.

(Three months, eight bookshelves, and a minor renovation later, all that was left to do was to rename the Shack, which Stan let Mabel do.

She furrowed her brow in thought and said “The Stanley Pines Memorial Library.” Mabel looked Stan right in the eyes and he knew there would be no arguing with her on this one.

“In honor of the man who built it all.”)

———–

“Grunkle  _Staaaaaaan!_ ”

Stan looked up from his newspaper, just in time to see Mabel pop into the doorway of the living room. She had a bright grin on her face and an even brighter sweater, Christmas lights woven into the wool and a big pair of red lips on the front.

“Whadya want?”

“I want you to meet my date silly!” Mabel turned and yelled down the hall. “Come on in Melly!”

There was the sound of the door opening and closing, footsteps down the hall, and a second later, another woman joined Mabel by her side. She was only a little taller than his niece and wore a bright pink dress that popped against the dark brown of her skin, and clashed with the blood red rose in her afro. Perched on her nose and over her eyes were a pair of dark rimmed glasses with smoked lenses.

“Her name is Melusine and we met at the grocery store and she likes kittencorns and  _Ducktective_ too and we’re going to Greasy’s tonight and-“

Stan held a hand up to interrupt his niece even as Melusine smiled warmly at Mabel.

“Mabel, take a breath and let your date speak for herself.” He paused. “Actually, can you go get me a beer real quick?”

“Yeah!” Mabel ran out of the room, leaving Stan and Melusine alone.

“So.” He took the seat out of its reclining position. “You’re a vampire are you?”

Melusine started.

“How…how could you-“Suddenly she slapped herself on the forehead. “Ugh, goddamnit, I forgot to change my freaking glasses  _stupid_.”

Stan shrugged. “Yeah that didn’t help. But also you didn’t show up in the mirror-“

“Mirror?” Melusine squeaked.

Stan pointed to the corner across from the door, a discreet concave mirror reflecting the doorway and the hallway. He ticked off points with the rest of his fingers. “Also, Mabel had to invite you in, you kept looking at her throat-“

“That’s pretty weak evidence Mr. Pines-“

“-and you pretty much admitted it to me with the glasses comment.” Stan arched an eyebrow at Melusine. “How old are you again?”

The sigh that came out of Melusine’s mouth could have come from any one of the punk ass kids Stan ran into at the mall. “Twenty one. I got turned last year.”

Stan rolled his newspaper up and began to bop it against his leg. “Mabel know?”

Melusine blushed and she folded her arms across her chest. “Uh, yeah.”

“Well, I’m sure you two are going to have fun and  _nothing is going to happen_ but if Mabel comes home with a bite mark on her neck well…” Stan looked at his hands nonchalantly. “No one suspects ashes in a fire pla-“

“ _Grunkle Stan!_ ”

Mabel stormed in from the kitchen, stomped over and shoved the beer at him.

“Stop threatening my girlfriend! I can take care of myself you know.”

Stan ignored Mabel, continuing to glare at the young vampire. “Not a mark-I got a lot of forest, a can of garlic, and more wooden stakes than I know what to do with.”

Mabel turned with a huff and stamped back over to Melusine, taking the taller girl’s hand in her own. “Let’s go Melly.” The vampire let herself be led out of the Shack with visible relief on her face, and Stan settled back in to read his paper. His niece was more than capable of taking care of herself; that girl kicked more ass on a daily basis than he ever had in all his years on the run. But it didn’t hurt to….provide some insurance.

(Mabel came home with an unmarked neck, much to Stan’s relief. And to Mabel’s relief, Stan didn’t notice that she didn’t wear shorts for the rest of the summer.)

——

Willow sneezed, and a tiny puff of flame shot out of her nose. She covered her face like Daddy had taught her too, but she could still see the lady sitting next to her and Grunkle Stan frown. The lady turned all green and pink, and got up, moving a few seats away from Willow.

She frowned and rubbed her eyes, but the colors didn’t go away. Neither did the owie in her tummy or her head. She wanted to crawl into Grunkle Stan’s lap and get a hug rather than sit in this cold hard chair but she was scared she’d hurt him again. She had sneezed on him on accident when he was putting her seat belt on for her in the car this morning and lit his jacket on fire. He had laughed and stomped it out and said it was okay but she could see little flashes of dark brown on his hands and his eyes and she knew she hurt him.

Willow didn’t know this doctor and she didn’t know why they had to go all the way out to stupid stinky Bend where everyone looked at her funny. She’d gone to so many doctors that they didn’t scare her anymore.  _She_  wasn’t scared but everyone else in here was. They were scared and hurt worse than her and there were other colors coming off of them that she didn’t understand but they hurt her all the same. Willow tried to make the colors go away like Uncle Dipper had showed her but every time she made a bubble around her head a green owie feeling from the other little girl in the room popped it. Or the dark blue waves of sadness flowing from the old man in the corner, or the blellow puke feeling from the tall boy, or pink sharp stabbings in her head, orange anger and sky blue worry and another pain in her head that was almost blinding white and it was too much, too much. But even though it felt like her  _her_  was being taken away, Willow tried to stay sitting up big and tall. She was a brave girl, and she wasn’t going to hide like a big chicken, and it’d be over soon and-

“Hey. Hey Willow Bean. You okay pumpkin?”

Willow looked at the floor; it helped a tiny bit but not much with the colors.

“Mmm-hmm.”

“I don’t know kiddo, that doesn’t  _sound_  like you’re okay.”

She said nothing, but continued to look at the floor, until a gnarled and wrinkly hand clucked her under the chin. Willow looked up and into the many shades of brown that made up Grunkle Stan in her eyes.

“Why don’t you just look at um, my… my colors,” Grunkle Stan said and Willow tried not to giggle at him. He always had a hard time talking about the things she and Uncle Dipper saw. Mommy said it was because Grunkle Stan was a big goofy goof. But she did what she was asked and buried her face in his suit jacket, still smelling like burny things.

“Just breathe with me honey okay?” Stan asked, a warm hand on her back and the other stroking her hair. Willow breathed in and smelt fire and saw all the browns begin to turn lighter, happier. She breathed out and her head still hurt and her stomach was still owie but Grunkle Stan was calm brown like the wood of the Shack. Breathe in, breathe out, and all the other colors around her were fading, all except for Grunkle Stan’s. He was calm and relaxed and smorple and had the kind of happy that Mommy or Daddy had when they cuddled and she felt herself finally relax.

(Stan wasn’t sure if this whole ‘projecting’ junk that Dipper had told him and Mabel and Henry about a month or two ago was going to work at first. But damn if Willow hadn’t finally calmed in his arms.

It was easy to radiate happiness when his niece felt safe enough to fall asleep in his arms.)

———-

Stan never realized how much work babies were. Even with four adults watching after them, the little rugrats still managed to break out of their cribs, aim their fingers straight for the ancient electrical sockets in the Shack, and stick weird shit in their mouths. Case in point, Stan had turned away from his oldest niece to answer the phone for one second;  _one second!_ The kid was almost a year old so it shouldn’t be any problem to grab some pop-tarts from the toaster. He turned back around and was greeted by the sight of Acacia cheerfully chewing on the leather wrapped pommel of the Wyrd Sword of Amalkin. That hadn’t even been on the floor a second ago and  _sweet Moses sword baby fuck._ Stan bent down to grab the sword, painfully aware that his every movement was slow, far slower than he ever remembered it being.

Christ, when had he gotten so old?

Gently yet painfully, Stan managed to pry the sword out of Acacia’s mouth. He scooted it away across the floor, glad that Hank was taking a nap with Henry and Willow was out at a doctor’s appointment. With a loud crack of his back, Stan scooped Acacia up and stood up straight again, or as straight as he could. The little brat had the cheek to laugh at him, bopping at his chest with one tiny fist. He took out a handkerchief and carefully wiped away the drool on her face, making Acacia laugh even more as she tried to eat the cloth. Pulling the handkerchief away, he scratched a scab off on the hand holding his niece, and he pressed the embroidered circle on the cloth to the drop of blood that welled up.

“Dipper, get your fucking ass in here  _right now,_ ” Stan growled.

His nephew lazily popped onto their plane. Dipper spotted the sword on the floor and his face lit up.

“Oh  _that’s_ where that thing went! I’ve been looking for it all day! Where did you find it Grunkle Stan?”

“On the kitchen floor. Right where our niece could gum on the handle. Way to go kid.”

Dipper blushed but rather than admit he was wrong, he only dug himself in worse. 

“Oh come on Stan, you know I would have been here the second she even _thought_ of getting near the blade. It’s fine!”

Stan pinched the bridge of his nose and winced as Acacia took the opportunity to yank on one of his large ears. “Dipper, did you leave your brains at the door this morning? You just don’t leave fucking weapons around the house like that!  _Especially_ with these stinkers crawling around! Not to mention-” He motioned at the sword in Dipper’s hands. “You and I  _both_  know that if Acacia had cut herself on that she would have been bound to the sword for a century of service.”

Dipper thrust a hand behind his head and looked down. “I could have broken that, no problem.”

“Whoop-de-fucking-do. You can break curses but Acacia still would have had a fucking big cut in her side. Quit… Quit acting like a demon and start acting like-“

Dipper’s voice was low and dangerous. “Like  _w̴̘̦͈͔h̢̖̤̠̦a͍̹̦̥t̮̖.”_

Stan sighed. “Like an uncle. It’s not just us in the house any more kid.”

The blood drained from Dipper’s face.

“I… I…”

Stan blew out a breath. “Relax Dipper. You wanna make this up? Go look and see if you’ve left any other dangerous shit lying around the house.”

Dipper slinked out of the kitchen. In his arms, Acacia giggled and waved her chubby arms. He jiggled her a bit and she laughed harder.

Being an uncle could be a pain in the ass sometimes but there were moments that made up for all the hassle.

(Twenty minutes later, Dipper slinked out of the Shack, his arms full of cursed and bespelled maces, knives, swords, and clubs.)

—————

After the triplets had gone to bed, and Henry had carted a snoozing Mabel off the couch and into their own bedroom, Dipper sleepily following them to shamelessly leech off their body heat…after the floorboards had shifted and cooled, after the roof stopped creaking, and Stan knew for a  _fact_  that everyone was not just asleep but at the stage where they wouldn’t wake up even if manotaurs started partying in the living room… Then and only then did he slip into the Library, like he had done every night for the past three weeks.  

Calloused hands traced the spines of the books as he made his way through the shelves, leaning heavily on his cane (he had started to actually  _need_ the damn thing these last few years, like an old fart.) Where had he left off again? Fe or Fl? No, Gr. Stan sighed. It was a lot easier to find shit when he had sorted things before Hen-

With a slight growl, he grabbed the next two or three books off the shelf and hobbled over to one of the study tables, clicking on the pink and purple light covered in puffy stickers that was plugged in on the top. He had read every book in this place at least twice over; once when he was trying to figure out how to get Ford back, trying to figure out what the  _fuck_ Ford had gotten his fool self into. Another round of reading when the Transcendence happened, and Mabel had come into the house alone yet not alone, reading to have some kind of answer when she called from California sniffling and he couldn’t hear Dipper in the background but Stan knew that he was hanging on to his every word as well.

And now here he was again, reading every goddamn book once again, trying to fix something-some _one­-_  that couldn’t be fixed.

Stan shook his head in frustration. Fixed wasn’t the right word. There was nothing wrong with Henry…well, okay, there  _was_  but- Stan took off his fez and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. He would never want to ‘fix’ Henry. If there was one thing Stan had learned and learned  _hard_  was life only moved forward, not backwards. He had wasted far too much of his life before he learned that. Besides, Stan looked at Henry, looked at the way that he had no problem moving the couch by himself now or how his shadow seemed to grow at times and felt a pang of relief mixed with guilt. The Woodsman could easily take care of anything or anyone that dared threaten or hurt Mabel and the kids. And Stan wished that this had never happened to Henry, he knew that it was fucked up to feel relieved and not horrified, to look for advice rather than a cure. But more important than him, more important than Henry was Mabel and the kids. And Stan knew Henry would say the same thing.

That being said, neither did he want Henry stumbling around in the dark, trying to figure out what was happening to him on his own. Normally he’d throw Dipper at the problem, but Stan could tell by the amount of bloody forks and chewed pens around the house that Dipper had absolutely no goddamn clue what was going on. And as much as it pained Stan to admit it, knowledge  _was_  power. Thirty years of having to learn how to operate the weird ass sci-fi doomsday machine in his basement had taught him that much. He remembered years of rummaging with weird machines he didn’t understand in the basement, deals and bargains made with the Little Folk in the forest, runes and sigils blurring before his eyes night after night, trying to figure out what was up with the weird pyramid fetish room Ford had.  

Stan would have killed to have some help throughout that time, or at least one person he could get drunk and yell at about all the crazy ass shit he had to deal with day after day. It was too late to change what had happened to Henry. But the least he could do was see if there was any advice he could give his son-in-law. Maybe liquor him up on some of that fancy beer he grabbed from Bend on a weekly basis.

(Stan had a lifetime of experience with the supernatural and the strange, and hell. Lost boys had to stick together.)


	124. Chapter 124

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the tumblr prompt "skeleton war :3c"

Dipper blipped onto the front yard of the Shack and froze. He probably shouldn’t have been surprised to see the sight in front of him, and yet he was.

“Mabel!” He tried and failed to keep the indignant tone from his voice. Mabel, clad in a GFHS letterman jacket, beads in her hair, looked up at him from her seat on the grass.

“What’s got your goat Dipper?” she asked. Then she reached out and poked a sleeping Gompers next to her. “Heh, goat.”

Dipper felt his ears and cheeks heat up like he was still Mabel’s sweaty teenage brother (as opposed to Mabel’s being of pure energy and thought brother.)

“Mabel, can you  _please_  stop decorating my horde of the undead?”

All throughout the yard were skeletons, constructed from human and animal bones and earth into twisted forms, brought back to a semblance of life through his will alone. Dipper had  _big_  plans tonight. Rumblings had reached his ears that Kashnalia the Eater had their many eyes on  _his_  territory. He had never gone toe to toe with a demon as old or as powerful as Kashnalia before: the demon in him hungered for the fight, for blood and fury, even as his human half recoiled in disgust. But both parts of him agreed that this was one fight that he and the Flock would need some back up for. Thus the undead army.

He had left them on the lawn for two minutes-two minutes!-to check with Fluffernutter to see how preparations were going in the Mindscape. But this _was_  his sister so in those two minutes she struck. Blood and dirt covered bones were now coated in plastic rhinestones, Mabel having bedazzled every square inch of each skeleton on the lawn. Bows were propped on skulls and tied on ribs and tibias. Fangs were wrapped in tin foil that Mabel had colored in different colors with Crayola markers. The entire contents of Mabel’s jewelry box hung from neckbones and phalanges. Warriors created only to rip, tear and destroy sat patiently docile while Mabel painted the last bones on their feet and hands (in lieu of nails.)

Mabel looked up and waved gaily. “Hey Dipper! You left these guys all alone and so I thought it was a good time for Make Over Time!!!”

“They’re my dread army of the undead Mabel!” As soon as the words left his mouth Dipper cringed. Oh god, Mabel was going to get him now…

“Dread army? What are you, the bad guy from a movie? Ooooo or maybe a video game!”

“ _Mabel._ ”

She finished painting the toe bones of one skeleton and beckoned over the next one. “Here Reginald!”

“Mabel, don’t name them! They’re going to dissolve by like, tomorrow. I think.”

Mabel gasped and covered the area where ears would have been if Reginald had had flesh. “Dipper, not where they can hear!”

Dipper sighed. “Mabel, these are just semi-autonomous puppest of my will and….is that a pink Hello Kitty headband?”

“Uh- _huh_.”

“They’re supposed to inspire fear and terror! Not be, um…” Dipper stuttered on the last word. “-pretty.”

“Well, you know what mister, I just bet that that other demon-“

“Kashnalia.”

“Yeah Cornhole. I bet they’re going to expect scary. They won’t expect-“ She waved her hands at the yard and the beings assembled there. “- _BEAUTY!_ ”

Dipper opened his mouth, and shut it again.

Maybe Mabel had a point.

(As it turned out, skeletons bedecked in plastic jewels and several kinds of pain inspired fear and fought just as well as those that didn’t.)


	125. Chapter 125

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> a quick drabble for TAU blog

*Hank interns with Toby Determined over summer vacation when he’s 14. It goes…. Well? Surprisingly well actually. The quality of the Gossiper increases by tenfold and Toby even finally starts publishing online. When Dipper asked Hank why he interned there considering he has no real interest in being a reporter, Hank just shrugs and says that Toby seemed kind of sad and lonely, and Hank wanted to help.

*Aunt Grenda teaches her niblings how to wrestle. Their bouts usually end with Grenda getting dog piled by three giggling redheads. Later, when Acacia is working at the pet store part time to make some extra money, the wrestling lessons come in handy for wrangling some of the larger creatures Grenda sells.

*Its Pacifica who teaches Willow about makeup, how to contour and shade, draw the perfect line on lip or eye. When Willow is thirteen they go to the mall in Bend to Sephora, and Pacifica tells her to go nuts. Willow is still Mabel’s daughter, so blue lips and lime green eyeshadow and eyeliner wings that are literal wings rule the day. But while maybe they aren’t the aesthetic choices Pacifica would make, it’s thanks to her that Willow carries it off to a T.


	126. Chapter 126

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some question and answers from tumblr! Not fic but still thought people would like to see them.

**What size shoe does Henry wear? How hard is it for him to find that size?**

Size 13, aka super fucking massive. Part of it is because Henry is so tall, but also part of it is just because he has really big feet naturally. 

Until he moved in with Mabel, Henry could only get his shoes from the Big and Tall store. Nowandays, Dipper will stretch any pair of shoes to his size for Henry in exchange for some fish.

 

**tell us anything and everything you want to share about henry!!**

*Henry is a leftie

*He hates bananas. Does it make sense? No. Does he realize that they are a generally inoffensive and common fruit? Absolutely. Does the mere smell of banana make him want to gag? Yes.

*Henry’s favorite book series is Discworld. He not only owns each one, but has them in both paperback and hardback. He discovered them in seventh grade and it felt like a drink of water after going through the desert. They informed his world view and saved his life, and Acacia was _this_ close to being Acacia Tiffany instead of Acacia Ruth.

*His secret guilty pleasure is anything Guy Fieri does, now pushing into his sixties and yet still somehow on Food Network. 

 

**Has the niblets ever had any big fights?**

Nothing that lasts more than a day. 

That being said they do have blowups that do last a day every once in awhile. Because while they all love each other and are incredibly close…well. Acacia can be bossy, and has a habit of getting all three of them in trouble. Hank is stubborn and when he arbitrarily (at least to Acacia and Willow) decides he does not want to do something, he is Not Doing it. And Willow feels like her siblings baby her which frustrates her until she blows her top.

However, no matter their disagreement, they end up working it out by the time its dinner or bed time. 

 

**Has Henry ever been scruffed by dipnip!Dipper like the triplets have been? (or at least... attempted scruffing)**

Yes. It was a struggle but since Dipper can fly, he eventually managed it.

Stan was not expecting to come in and see a very disgruntled Henry getting his hair licked by a purring Dipper, but he did have the presence of mind to get Mabel (and the camera)

 

**If the Mabel-land bubble somehow appeared in a universe with Henry in it, what would his greatest desire be?**

Ooooooh ho ho ho.

Mabel and Dipper when they went to save him would be confused at first because everything seems….normal. He still has his shitty truck and works at the Library, the kids are still there running around, Stan is still cranky and the Shack has still been turned into the Library.

But then Bubble Dipper appears and they realize that the life Henry leads with them is already his greatest desire-a life of his own that Henry built, surrounded by people he loves and people who love him. But since this is the land of his greatest desire and Henry can’t stand to think of his family in pain… 

This is a world where Willow still has her Sight and fire, but it doesn’t pain her like it does in the real world, a world where she is free of her asthma. This is a world where Ford calls Stan and occasionally they go fishing, their relationship whole and repaired and healthy.

This is a world where Dipper is still a dorky uncle and brother, but he’s not a demon, he has his ghost hunting show. He has the chance to live and die with the rest of his family.

The bubble is the real world but slightly better, which makes it all the more insidious. 

 

**Who is the loudest snorer in the house? The niblings, Henry, Mable or Stan?**

To everyone’s great surprise, Willow. She’s louder than even Stan and Acacia and Hank swear up and down that she snores loud enough to rattle the windows. The kids get separate bedrooms at the age of 11 partially because it was time, but more importantly because they were about ready to smother Willow with a pillow at night from her loud snoring. 

 

**How did the triplets deal with their year-long sacrifices for instant language acquisitions? Any struggles, and did they feel like it was worth it in the end?**

All three of them definitely feel like it was worth it, though it was harder than they thought it would be.

Hank, who gave up video games in order to learn Chinese, didn’t realize how much he had gotten into the habit of playing video games after school until he _couldn’t_  any more. It’s actually this year where Hank really starts to get into computers, taking apart old _old_  CPU’s from Goodwill and putting them back together again, learning how they work.

Acacia had it the easiest, having given up tree climbing. However, she and Uncle Dipper never said anything about climbing on the _roof_  however, so she spends a lot of time on the roof when she gets the itch to climb. Willow and Hank give her lots of shit for this like good siblings, of course. 

Dipper had a handful of terrified niece three days after they made a deal, Willow wild eyed and about to cry because she sneezed and she felt a little fire almost come out and she didn’t mean to break the deal she _promised_  and- After Dipper wipes Willow’s tears away, he reassures her that he knows she can’t control her sneezing, that she didn’t break her deal. 

Willow has the hardest time of the three of them, and everyone politely doesn’t notice that her sneezes seem to be getting more frequent and more spectacular as the year goes on. (Two days before the deal is done, and Willow is sneezing four foot plumes of blue flame)

 

**Do any of Willow’s foster kids find out Grunkle Dipper is Alcor?**

Actually all of them know that Dipper is Alcor!

For one, it’s kind of unavoidable, considering that Willow and by extension her small horde of children live in the Shack, and Dipper ‘lives’ in the Shack as well. The thought of _not_  telling them never crosses Willow’s mind: they would find out eventually anyway and she grew up knowing who Dipper was and it didn’t hurt her. Besides, the kids are family, and family knows about Dipper.

As well, several of her children came to her because Dipper found and rescued them from being sacrificed or from a bad home situation, so the cat’s double out of the bag for them.

And just like her parents, Willow views Uncle Dipper as an extra helping hand in small child wrangling.

(Dipper occasionally acts disgruntled, but don’t let him fool you, he loves having five niblings hang off of him or sit on his lap or brush his hair out or any of the million things he does with them.)

 

**What are the triplet's favorite foods?**

 

Acacia: Sriracha. Jalapeños and habeñeros. Scotch bonnets. She’s basically a spice freak and frequently eats things that make grown men cry.

 

Hank: Macaroni and cheese or mint chocolate chip ice cream. 

 

Willow: Steak, as rare as you can get it without poking it and getting a moo back. 

 

 

**What ages do the triplets live to?**

Willow: 127

Hank: 129

Acacia: 131

 

**How does Willow die? (Lung problems?)**

Pretty much yes. A lifetime of health issues and monster hunting/cult bashing catching up with her.

 

**The Hunt. It's not finished yet, but through it Henry has vehemently shoved away his Woodsman ego, trying to delay it as long as possible. On other occasions, he has shown hesitation to talk about this side of him. Would you say that this is an identity crisis, simply fear for becoming something monstrous, or something else? I haven't gotten nearly enough of Henry expressing how he feels about the Woodsman. He's very quiet.**

The middle option!

The driving problem of Hunt is that Henry does not trust himself, does not trust the Woodsman to become something monstrous and terrible. Henry looks at himself and sees only the potential to become his father, to become someone that hurts and takes joy in hurting others. Henry is scared of this new power within him and he wants to try and throttle it, shove it down and ignore it as best as he can.

After Hunt however his attitude changes and he becomes far more relaxed and accepting of the Woodsman. Henry knows now who he is, who the Woodsman is, who the two of them are together and what they can achieve and accomplish. This is the Henry that takes quiet satisfaction in being able to help the helpless, in growing ridiculously large vegetables and fruit in his garden, in digging his feet into the earth and feeling the roots of the grass curl and wrap around his toes. Maybe it was a hard and painful road to get to this point, but he’s glad he’s here now. 

 

**what diplomas, degrees, and other important educational milestones have each of your Pines babies achieved, and in what fields/majors/minors/areas of focus?**

Mabel: Associates Degree, Business Administration, Central Oregon Community College.

Henry: Masters Degree, Library Science, Oregon State.

Acacia: Bachelor of Fine Arts, Art, University of Oregon.

Hank: Bachelor of Science, Computer Science, Oregon State.

Willow: Bachelors Degree, Business Administration, University of Oregon.

 

**Have the triplets ever intentionally scared the living crap out of some innocent passerby, and none of them can figure out what they said wrong, and neither can Dipper or their parents. (Because they are so used to it they can not imagine it as scary.)**

Absolutely. Those little hellraisers know that they are a. cute, b. can talk pretty near in unison if they try hard enough and c. love to fuck with people. 

 

**Do the triplets or Henry have musical talent/like to play an instrument or sing? And if so, what?**

Acacia plays the kazoo, mainly for its great annoyance qualities. Willow likes to sing though informally. Hank plays the violin. It’s what he’s done to bond with his Uncle since he was about five or six.

Hank will also _not_  be playing “Devil Went Down to Georgia,” no matter how much you ask.

 

**Does Henry's soul come visit Dipper between incarnations?**

Absolutely. Dipper frequently is visited by a soul who in between all the different flashes of skin and hair and body parts is always crowned by a magnificent pair of antlers, strong, tall, and proud in the realm of the mind

The thousand years that Henry is gone is one of the hardest stretches of Dipper’s life.

 

**We know Hank dyes his hair in college, sick of being The Normal One. How many colours does he go through? How many disasters?**

Every color of the rainbow except for red.

No disasters because any child of Mabel Pines will know how to dye their hair properly darnit. ;)

Oddly enough the only “disaster” was when Mabel saw him with dyed hair for the first time (green) and excused herself to go to the bathroom and have a tiny cry. She knows she’s being silly: especially as she one had Dipper make her hair eighteen different colors for Pride so she could do rainbow braids. Seeing Hank without his red hair shouldn’t be making her sad at all but it is?

(She knows there’s some hurt behind that hair, and it makes her hurt in turn.)

 

**let's say that they each have some time to kill and really nothing better to do. What kinds of web games or apps would each of them seek out for a little light entertainment (or not so light, as any case might be)?**

Acacia: Instagram. You know that girl loves her filters. She’s also constantly going through art making apps. Key word being constantly because none of them are ever _quite_ good enough for her.

Hank: He has a little piano app on his phone that he loves; it’s all the fun of a real piano but in his pocket and cheaper! And when he gets frustrated with a lack of apps that interest him, he gets on his computer and starts coding and programming and brainstorming.

Willow: Any kind of app related to meditation or calming down. Anything to distract her from the riot of color she sees on a daily basis.


	127. Chapter 127

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt: "Wendy taking care of and playing with baby triplets"

She had been rolling around on the floor with Acacia and Hank when she heard the front door open. With a quick look to the couch, where Willow had dropped off into a nap, Wendy handily scooped up the toddlers. With Hank on one arm and Acacia on the other both squealing, kicking and giggling, she went to meet her cousin at the door.

At the sight of their father, the kids in Wendy’s arms went nuts, and she let them down to waddle over to Henry before they bruised her ribs with the kicking. He picked his children up and spun them around, kissing both on the cheek when he was still again.

“Where’s Willow?” Henry asked, as Acacia looked into his vest pocket and Hank buried his head into the crook of Henry’s shoulder.

“Conked the fuck out on the couch man. We ran around in the yard earlier, to blow the stink off of them.” Wendy did not mention the ten minute scare she had gotten when she couldn’t find her littlest cousin, only to luck out by looking behind the bush and seeing a sleeping Willow there.

Henry looked at Acacia and his brow furrowed. “What’s this weird red mark on her forehead?”

“We were finger-painting.” And by finger-painting Wendy meant painting a sleeping Stan’s nails bright red; Acacia had gotten the polish mark when Stan had held her up to burble her belly earlier with still wet polish.

Henry nodded and turned to look at Hank. “Is… Is Hank missing some hair?”

Wendy chuckled. “Please, no idea where you got that from.” He absolutely was missing some hair, after she had taken the kids for a quick walk in the woods and Hank proceeded to not only run into a tree, but a tree that was oozing unnaturally sticky sap. Luckily some work with her axe had freed him but he had definitely gotten a haircut.

Henry smiled at her. “Thanks so much again Wendy. I don’t know what Mabel and Stan and Dipper and I would do without you.”

“Call Soos and Melody. Or Candy and Grenda. Or Pacifica. Or-“

Henry laughed. “Okay okay!” He jiggled Hank and Acacia. “Can you say goodbye to Wenwen?”

Wendy leaned in towards Henry and got two sets of big slobbery kisses, one on each cheek.

“Eyebye Wenwen!” Acacia shrieked at the top of her lungs, while Hank waved (using his whole arm, as usual.)

Wendy drove all the way home in her pickup with a big smile on her face. She loved her little cousins, and it felt like that love grew every day. They were only two but every day she could see more and more of Henry and Mabel, Stan and Dipper in each of them. They were loud and rambunctious and sweet and funny and she loved them with a fierceness that surprised even her.

The best part about babysitting, Wendy thought as she got home, was that she could give them back at the end of the day. She loved the triplets, but when push came to shove well.

Nothing beat a future of being able to sit around the house naked all weekend eating sushi and ice cream, and watching as many R rated movies as one pleased.

 


	128. Chapter 128

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this tumblr prompt: "Stan's first family fishing day with the twins after they move up to live in GF with him."

They had only been on Lake Gravity Falls for twenty minutes, the Stan o’ War drifting listlessly across the surface, but that was all the time needed for Stan to realize that this trip was a terrible idea.

The kids had been moved back in for two weeks now, but nothing seemed to have gotten better. Inwardly Stan winced at that. One kid a demon, and the other taking the brunt of that; how could he even use that word, better? But yeah. Mabel… hadn’t done much of anything. She ate, she slept, she helped in the Shack but that was it. He hadn’t seen her touch a needle or a pen or a glue gun the past two weeks. Had barely heard but twenty words out of her mouth a day since he had picked her up from the bus station. Hell, she was bumming out the rubes the way she sat behind the register, though Stan would rather slit his own throat than ever say that to her.

He looked at Mabel, hands trailing in the water, fishing pole abandoned, not even squealing for joy as a troop of pixies skidded and danced across the surface of the lake. Sixteen… she and Dipper had celebrated their birthday about a month before he got a phone call from California. Sixteen and that wasn’t much younger than he was when his father threw him out on the street. Wasn’t much younger than he was when he drove away from his home for the last time with only twenty dollars in his pocket and not even a full tank of gas. Mabel… and Dipper, Dipper too- they both still had parents that loved them, parents who called every other night to see how they were doing (calls that Mabel took in stony near silence, calls followed by an early bedtime.) Parents who had listened to Mabel’s proposition, parents who sent money to support their children at his house, parents who knew when to let their children go.

Was it better to have left in disgrace, Stan thought, or with love and understanding?

As for Dipper… Stan sighed. The kid was a demon, literally, and there was no getting around it. He didn’t want to treat Dipper like his parents had, didn’t want to be scared of his goddamn nephew. But having Dipper living with him had been more difficult than Stan had expected. It was one thing to hear from Mabel and to see during holidays that Dipper needed to be summoned onto this plane in order to see him, and another to actually live with it. Mabel was strung tighter than Ma sometimes, with the amount of playing Telephone she had to do. And there had been a hundred other little things as well, things he was supposed to deal with better because Stan  _knew_ better and-

A brush of cold air on his neck. Oh yeah. The kid could tell what he was feeling now; Dipper used some fancy shmancy word to describe it but this whole thing was hard enough to talk about for Stan as it was. Stan tried to calm himself down, tried to focus on only his fishing rod and the bob of his line in the water. Focus on the fish and not his niece who looked half ready to throw herself in or a nephew who he couldn’t even see at all.

Having them come here was supposed to make things better. Having his kids here was supposed to fix them, supposed to make them…Stan wasn’t fool enough to think ‘happy’ but at least a little better than before.

He didn’t want to break the most important relationships in his life, not again.

There was a sniff from Mabel’s side of the boat, a sniff that not even new and improved homemade fishing buddy hats (Dipper had gotten as best of a top hat as Stan could contrive) could keep away.

Okay. His sniveling wasn’t fixing anything. Maybe this trip hadn’t gotten off to a good start but he’d be damned if it would keep on being so damn gloomy. This shit, his kids… this wouldn’t get better just by wishing and hoping and farting around. Like all good things, Stan was going to have to work for it.

He threw an arm around Mabel, startling her.

“Hey, I don’t want to see any long faces on this boat! You’re going to cheer up damnit, even if I have to bring out the joke book.”

“You didn’t pack it Grunkle Stan,” Mabel pointed out, but with a little more life in her voice than she had had in the last few weeks. He raised his eyebrows at her.

“Oh I didn’t eh?” He reached for his tacklebox and pulled out a drawer, revealing an old and stained copy of the joke book. Stan grinned at her. “Why don’t you call that brother of yours on the boat; I’ll give him a fish or something.”

Mabel cocked her head, listening at the air, then said “Dipper says give him the bag of gummy worms under your hat you weren’t going to share and you have a deal.”

“Sheesh kid, way to screw me over,” Stan grumbled, but he whipped out the bag and tossed it to the area where Dipper was fading into view.

Maybe things weren’t perfect, maybe it’d take time to get to a new kind of normal. But for now, Mabel was smiling, a small one but still a smile, and Dipper was gagging and complaining that his nose could _really_ smell dead fish now and it was completely disgusting, and there was a tug on his line. Things weren’t perfect, but hell.

Perfect was overrated.


	129. Chapter 129

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secret santa request for buttwings.

Mabel had been staring at him intently from her bed for the last ten minutes, eyes never wavering from Dipper even as he burned through book after book pilfered from the depths of his hat.

“Do I have some blood on my face?” he finally asked, when it felt like her eyes were going to bore a hole through his head.

“Dipper.”

“Yes Mabel?”

“Why are your wings on your butt?”

Dipper choked on his spit! “ _Mabel!_ ”

“They are though!”

“No they are͙̹̳̰ͅ _n͍̼'̬̙̯̝͔t̝̰!͈͈̬̞”_

Mabel giggled. “Your voice craaaaacked,” she sang. “Is it because they’re powered by…by.. by FARTS?!” At that last word Mabel broke down into screams of laughter.

“[They’re located above my hips! In the small of my back!](http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/105571684488/in-case-anyone-was-wondering-the-exact-placement) _Not my butt!_ ”

The look on his face did nothing to intimidate his sister, but only sent her into further peals of laughter.

“I’m going out until you calm down,” Dipper said with as much dignity as he could muster, then proceeded to totally not go sulk in the Mindscape.

Once he was there, among the Flock and in the fields of waving grass, he couldn’t help but wonder. Why _did_ they come in there, as opposed to further up his back? Was it better aerodynamically? Was it symbolic? Or what if-Dipper froze in fear. What if it was tied to his demonhood? What if it was the first sign of worse things to come, to the total loss of his conscience and the last shreds of his humanity?

There was only one way to find out. He didn’t like to trawl through the dredges of his omniscience but now he _had_ to know.

—-

Three hours later Mabel looked up from coloring at the sound of her brother coming back into the room, fading into existence.

“What’s up brotherbutt?”

“I…I found out. Why my wings are where they are.”

“Oh?!” Mabel sat up and looked at him expectedly. “Why?”

Dipper looked down and muttered.

“What? I didn’t hear you.”

Dipper sighed.

“Because they look cool with my coat tails.”


	130. Chapter 130

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Secret Santa request: asked for anything with Matthews and Card

“I can’t believe you got stuck babysitting us,” the girl in the overalls said. The level of scorn that her voice held made her sound fifty not five for a second.

Matthews ran a hand through his hair and huffed out a breath. “Yeah, well we didn’t want to babysit for you either.”

“Matthews!”

The boy looked up from his coloring and shook his head. “That wasn’t very nice of you sir

Matthews’ partner looked up from where he was coloring alongside him. “Yeah, what he said.”

“Card, can you not side with the kindergartner?”

Card shrugged. “Maybe you need to learn to not be so blunt.”

Matthews buried his head in his hands. They were not only late for their beat, they were late for a beat that they were currently two hundred miles away from. One minute they had been in their cruiser about to leave Thunderbolt Subs, the next Alcor the Freaking Dreambender was in their backseat.

It had only taken about fifty to seventy surprise “H̭̜̥̫̮ͅe̱͕̠͔̗͓y ̪g̱̣̩̺̝͚u̼͕̥ys̪̥̮͖!̮͈̹̦͍ͅ” to stop from screaming like baby goats whenever the demon showed up unexpected. However, Card still snorted the drink of soda he had been slurping up and out through his nose, while Matthew’s last bite of sub went down the wrong pipe.

“How are my favorite policepeople?” Alcor asked but the men in the front seat were too busy coughing up a lung to respond to him.

“ _Great_  look guys I need a favor.”

“Sure!”

Matthews punched Card in the shoulder. “Dude, remember, _details first!_ You’re seriously going to get us killed one day!”

Card shrugged. “It’s Alcor.”

“Yeah, what he said!”

Matthews pointed a finger at the floating demon. “Your opinion doesn’t count!”

Two sets of sad eyes looked at him, and Matthews sighed.

“Fine, what do you want?”

Alcor grinned, bearing two rows of razor sharp fangs, like a shark, and Matthews’ stomach flipped over once.

“You guys remember Mizar? I’m sure you do, she fixed your dinky wards and Card totally has a crush on her-“

“Do not!” Card squeaked, his voice breaking. He glared at Matthews who threw his hands up.

Alcor ignored their outburst and kept on going. “Yeah, well she and the Woodsman are out of town for their honeymoon this weekend and left their kids with me but I need-“

“To go bust a cult and throw them on our doorstep again?” Matthews asked.

“No.”

Card snapped. “No, wait, is it to fight monsters beyond our mortal knowing?”

“ _No._ ”

“Human flesh?”

Alcor snapped, blue flames leaping around him in an aura and filling the squad car with the smell of burnt plastic. “ _I need a break!”_

The three men looked at each other incomprehensibly for a minute. Finally, Matthews broke the silence with, “But you’re a demon and these kids are…how old are they?”

“Five. All of three of them; they’re triplets.” Alcor took off his hat and left it floating in front of his chest as he ran his fingers through his hair. “And I love them dearly, but this is the longest I’ve looked after them alone before and they’ve been up since six this morning and I only fed them a little bit of sugar but they’re bouncing like molecules off the walls and-“

“We’ll do it,” Card said again.

“ _Card!_ We’re about to go on duty. You know. On our jobs. That are important. Because we’re cops?”

Card pulled Matthews in close, slinging an arm around his shoulder as he turned them away a bit from the demon still floating in the backseat.

“Look man, the look on his face is the same look I see on my sister’s face when my nephews are driving her bonkers and she hasn’t had a break in a week, and she looks ready to cry or start breaking dishes. Let’s just tell him we need to be back in a half hour; he gets his break, we don’t get fired, it’s all good!”

Matthews sighed. “Fine. But I’m blaming you if we get yelled at.”

That had been an hour and a half ago. And by this point, Matthews wasn’t surprised at all that these hellions were blood relatives of a demon. He was _sure_ he was going to see new grey hairs in his mirror tonight.

He looked over at the youngest girl, who was currently clipping barrettes into Card’s curls.

“ _When_ will your Uncle be here again?”

The little girl shrugged. “When he’s ready.” She looked at him with unnervingly old eyes, and then said, “Though your colors say you’re ready for him to be here now. Also that you like us better than you are acting like.”

“Matthews can be a bit of a softie,” Card agreed, picking up a green crayon.

Matthews scowled.

Alcor owed them _big._


	131. Chapter 131

Dipper looked down at the beast that had invaded his home.

“I̼̻̮ ͔͕̪d̹͞ǫṇ’͍̤̤̜̮̩̖͞t̰̤͠ͅ ͖l͠i̟̻͕͇̣ͅk̤̩͚̫̤͙͍e̪̕ ̺͕͍̝̝̙̗̀y̯̝o͔͟u,” he finally said witheringly.

The hellspawn continued to sit on the couch and ignore him.

“Seriously, you are a disgusting barely domesticated poop machine that leaves pheromones _t̡̬̬h̦̹̟̤͚̺͢a̝̲̜̻̜̺͜ͅț̤͉̖̤̫ I̸̞̻̩͕ ̬̜̺̦͖̫c̩͓̖̩̻̠͈͡a̹̭͚̫̝̰ṉ̜͖̜̗̦̱ ͎͕̹͈̰̲s͢m̩̭̠el̢̲̼̣̱̼̹̯ĺ̝̩̠͖̣_ all over the house.”

The creature sneezed in response.

“You shed! You shed _a lot_ and no one else seems to notice or even _c̵̮͉͚̺̜a͜r͇͇͖͔̟͔͈e͔͚̲̪ͅ!_ You get special food! I don’t recognize Grunkle Stan when he’s around you!”

The little monster curled up into a ball.

Dipper inspected his nails and shot a withering “You’re _obviously_ a manifestation of Mabel and Henry’s empty nest syndrome. That’s it.”

Pooter the Maine Coon cat that Henry had brought home with him a week ago stretched out on his back, taking up half the length of the couch.

“Oh no. No no no no no. You’re not getting me like that.”

Pooter chirrped. His tounge and a bit of drool popped out. His grey belly looked like a soft fluffy cloud.

\--

When Mabel came home from the grocery store that day, it was to see a disgruntled and miffed demon on her couch, her new cat on his lap.

Dipper, who had taken off his gloves to pet Pooter, was trapped and thus unable to escape from the twenty pictures Mabel proceeded to snap on her phone.


	132. Chapter 132

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Day In the Life of Willow Pines, for TAU Secret Santa

12:32am: Get home from an exorcism in Pine Box, California. Collapse on bed.

1:15am: Get awoken by several children climbing into bed and snuggling with you. Fall back asleep once everyone is sorted.

5:30am: Alarm goes off. Press snooze.

5:45am: Alarm goes off again. Press snooze harder.

5:50am: Alarm goes off for third time. Set alarm clock on fire. Get out of bed to put alarm clock out, with the fire extinguisher you keep for this purpose. Go to closet and get out new alarm clock from the store you have in there. 

6:30am: Go downstairs to help Dad make breakfast. Get Auriga to set the table, and set Rob and Annie to waking up the others.

7:45am: At breakfast today are you, Mom, Dad, Auriga, Annie, Rob, Gertrude, Martine, Fred, Jose, Jose’s best friend Jeremy, Uncle Dipper, two or three of Tio Soos’ grandkids, some gnomes that snuck in, and Multibear. You call not it on dishes.

9:00am: Return from dropping everyone off at school. You currently drive a fifteen passenger van that your sister painted for you. She did mermaids like you asked, and made them topless, like you did _not_ ask. You have to admit that the boobs do look nice at least, though you’ve caught Annie calling it the Titmobile behind your back. 

9:01am: Okay, Titmobile _is_ pretty funny.

9:30am to 5:30pm: Run the Library. For now it’s just you, though the kids help when they come home from school with putting books back and cleaning. Dad’s making noises about helping once he retires.

10:12am: You notice that the copy machine that Mom and Uncle Dipper always look a little funny at is sparking again; that thing is a dinosaur and you should probably throw it out but it was Grunkle Stan’s and…you can’t. 

11:15am: Aunt Wendy drops by. After hugs, kisses, and gossip, she confides that she’s going off to take care of [some easy peasy monster that lives in a subway.](http://marypsue.tumblr.com/post/130602433283/there-was-a-person-in-an-orange-vest-mopping-the) She should be back by Tuesday; could you ask your Dad if he’d make green bean casserole that night?

12:16pm: Lunch is left over spaghetti from the night before. You could tell Mom made it because there’s edible glitter in there.

1:47pm: The inevitable afternoon headache from the auras hits you. You reach into your desk drawer to grab the prescription strength Tylenol inside. You catch a glimpse of your eyes in the small mirror you keep in the drawer, eyes the same yellow as Uncle Dipper’s. Eyes that remind you that you really need to talk to him because you know for a fact that you’ve been getting more and more sensitive this past year and it’s starting to be even more of a problem than before. 

2:54pm: No, you tell the caller on the other end of the line, Yggdrasil is not the same as pot. You get calls like this twice a day.

3:35pm: Get into a twenty minute meme off with Hank over text message. Snidely remind him when he gets you good and you have nothing left in your photo library that he should be working. He reminds you that you should be doing the same. You plan on lighting his hair on fire next time you see him. 

4:05pm: Break up two researchers who are having a loud argument over the four different types of werewolves. Remind them that they need to keep it down in here because this is a library. Also that there are seven kinds of werewolves. Duh. 

5:14pm: Seven kids of varying ages pop into existence on the front lawn; it was Dipper’s turn to pick them up from school today. Annie and Rob, as the oldest, come into the library to help her with closing duties, while Auriga and Martine shepherd the little ones inside for snack time.

6:00pm: Dad comes home a little late, but that’s because he’s bearing gifts of pizza, pizza, and more pizza. As you and Mom set the table, Uncle Dipper argues unsuccessfully for Dad to let him drizzle blood on his pizza. They compromise, and Dad pulls out a package of raw hamburger for your Uncle to put on there.

6:18pm: Uncle Dipper disappears from the table. Your stomach lurches. If he couldn’t put it off until dinner… that could mean… You haven’t had anyone join you since Fred came last year, but you run a mental check to make sure that there’s clean jammies and a free bed available just in case.

6:57pm: Uncle Dipper comes back as the kids are finishing dishes. You and Mom take one look at him, then Mom takes him by the hand and leads him into the other room, murmuring quietly. 

8:45pm: You put Fred, Jose, and Gertrude to bed. As you tuck them in your heart swells with love. They’re not the children of your flesh, not the children that came into your life by your choice, but they are here all the same and you love them, love them so much it hurts.

8:46pm: Fred burps in your face on accident, and then giggles because he’s five. 

9:00pm: You settle down on the couch in front of the TV. It’s a rare night in for you; no cults that need to be busted either by yourself or with Uncle Dipper, no missions of your own. You remind Auriga and Martine that they need to be bed in an hour, to which both of them roll your eyes. You point out that you weren’t that impertinent when you were their age, to which your parents and Uncle begin to laugh hysterically. 

10:11pm: You need to get up and go to bed but Annie has fallen asleep on your shoulder. You remember when she looked at you with distrust in her eyes and while you wouldn’t say the literal drool on your shirt is sweet, the fact that Annie can drool on you makes you feel good. 

11:21pm: Get Annie in her bed with help from Rob, and then go to your own bedroom. Collapse on the bed after another long day. Your life is chaotic, busy, hectic, tiring. Your powers are only growing stronger and you’re terrified that one day they will drive you mad, will finally leave your control. Tomorrow you may have to go into the dark to rescue someone or wreak vengeance (or both.) But it’s your life, and it’s a good one, filled with people who you love and love you. Just for that alone, you wouldn’t change a thing.


	133. Chapter 133

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a tau secret santa prompt asking for triplet bonding.

They were the first to know: not Mommy and Daddy, not Grunkle Stan, not even Uncle Dipper.

Them.

Later, when they were grown, none of them could ever precisely pinpoint what event made the switch in Willow’s brain flip from off to on, what sparked her fire. That day, from what they could remember, was… kind of boring. No weird trauma or explosions or Uncle Dipper being demony.

They couldn’t remember the cause, but they did remember getting home from school, throwing backpacks on the ground and chattering as loud as possible and Willow… stopping. While Hank and Acacia moved around her pulling out toys and homework and climbing on beds and jumping off of them, Willow stood still in the middle of the room, muscles locked tight. The only movement she made was to turn her head from side to side, looking around like she had never been in their room before.

Hank was the first to notice that something was wrong.

“Will? Will-will are you okay?” he asked, doing a spectacular jump off the bed and landing on the floor next to them.

Grunkle Stan’s voice rang out from downstairs. “Kids! Your beds aren’t trampolines, knock it out!”

“Yes Grunkle Stan!” Acacia yelled back, before jumping off the bed. They heard Grunkle Stan grumbling and swearing from downstairs, but they didn’t laugh, not when Willow was starting to shake.

Acacia joined her younger siblings and poked Willow in the stomach.

“Does your tummy hurt?”

Willow shook her head.

Hank frowned. “Did someone say something to you at school?”

Willow shook her head again.

“Then what is it goober?”

“Kacia! Daddy said no name calling.”

“Acacia. You’re red all over,” Willow finally managed to say. Acacia looked down at herself.

“Am not.”

“Are too. You got a red cloud all around you.”

“Willow…she doesn’t.”

She turned to look at Hank. “And you’re all bluey and yellowy and there’s a weird purple spot on your chest.”

Her head whipped back and forth between the two of them.

“You… you guys really don’t see them? At all?”

Acacia shook her head. “Nope.”

Willow looked at them, her eyes funny looking. “But… but they’re _right there_ and I can _see_ them!” Willow frowned. “Why are you scared Acacia?”

Acacia crossed her arms and frowned. “I’m not!”

“Yeah you are because you’re getting mad,” Hank pointed out. He looked at his younger sister. “How could you tell?”

“I… I don’t know. I just….Kacia your eyes got more redder and-“

Willow’s legs gave out from under her, and she sat down hard on the rug.

“What… what’s happening to me?” Willow asked.

Hank and Acacia looked at each other. Then as one they grabbed their sister by an arm each and dragged her to her bed, climbing onto the mattress with her. Hank pulled the blanket over the three of them, and the three of them curled together, just like when there was a storm or Uncle Dipper was doing weird stuff with the forks. They curled together and held Willow while she cried, shaking under their arms.

“Do you believe me? I’m not lying, I promise,” Willow finally managed to say once the tears stopped.

“Yeah, we believe you,” Hank said, speaking for both of them.

“You wanna tell Mommy?” Acacia asked.

Willow thought about it for a minute. “What if I get in trouble?”

Acacia scowled. “You haven’t done anything wrong dummy!”

“I _know_ that! But what if I did? What if this is cause we drink out of Uncle Dipper’s cup all the time or that time he took me out with him to that dark room on accident or-“

“Calm down Will. You’re going to start breathing funny if you don’t,” Hank pointed out.

She burrowed her head into Acacia’s shirt. “I don’t want to tell. Not yet.”

The three of them stayed under the covers like that for another minute or two, and then Acacia asked, “We should go see if Grunkle Stan has colors?”

Willow pulled her head up. “Why?”

Acacia grinned. “Because then we can tell when he lies.”

Matching grins quickly lit up Hank and Willow’s faces, at the thought of what they’d be able to con out of their Grunkle in the near future.

 


	134. Chapter 134

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three Times Dipper Cheered Mabel Up

With a roar of pain and effort, Alcor the Dreambender tore his way into this reality, blazing bright blue flame, ebon black skin broken with burning golden lines.

“W̶͐ͧ͆̋̏H̍O ͐͊́Dͫͤͯ̚͞Ì̈͒ͦ̋̀͂D̶͗̿ͦ̉̍ ̌͜T̸̿ͭH̊̆̕Iͬͦ̓̚̕S̓̏̆̔̇?”

Mabel looked up from her sniffles, and despite the pain smiled at the way her brother was acting like a big goofy goober.

“I did.”

“I….oh. Oh. Um…”

The black flaked away and the flames died down until it was just her silly billy bro-bro floating in front of her.

“Uh. How’d you do that?” Dipper asked, motioning to her knee, which was currently super gross and bloody and oozy.

“I fell down the stairs,” Mabel said, wiping her nose.

Dipper raised his eyebrows and his eyes flicked to the ground next to her.

Mabel rolled her eyes. “I fell down the stairs while I was trying to facetime with Waddles. But I’ve done it like, a _million_ times before!”

Dipper sighed.

“Mabel, you gotta be more careful now that I’m… I’m not always here to help you or look out for you.”

Mabel leaned up a bit to flick Dipper on the forehead.

“Goober I’ll be fine! I’m thirteen now, remember? I _got_ this!”

She looked at the look on his face and sighed. “It’s okay, really, I promise. I need to learn to be more careful, that’s all.”

Blood dripped down her leg and dripped onto the carpet.

“I… I can take care of that for you,” Dipper muttered.

“Really?” Mabel paused. “What’s the catch? You’re acting _weird_ all the sudden.”

“I’d um, I’d have to-“

“You’re _bluuuuuuushinnnng!_ ”

“I’dhavetolickyourknee,” Dipper spat out in one breath.

“Oh.” She didn’t say it out loud but that _was_ a teenie bit weird. But this was _Dipper_. This was her twin, her brody (like buddy but brother! Dipper never liked it but pfft.) Wasn’t his fault he was a demon now.

Also her knee hurt _really bad._

“Okay! Fix me up!”

Quicker than her eyes could see, Dipper knelt down and licked her knee once, twice with a tongue that was now forked and spiky feeling like a kitty’s. She looked down and-

“Dipper! You fixed my knee!”

“I told you I would,” he said far too smugly for her taste.

“Well yeah but I thought there’d be a scab or something,” she replied. The skin on her knee was like normal, no scab or scar or _nothing._

“Anything… anything for my sister,” Dipper said, with a weird choked sound in his voice which Mabel had long ago learned meant that he was overthinking something.

Mabel couldn’t be having with that so she pulled him into a rib cracking hug to thank him.

———-

She waited until she was in her room, waited until she had put her backpack away, until she put her snack down on the desk that Mom had gave her, before she curled up on the bed and began to cry.

Mabel wouldn’t lie. She had refused to pretend that Dipper was dead, that Dipper was _gone_ since she started eighth grade (started without him) and that wasn’t going to change now that she was in ninth grade. And she didn’t regret it, not one bit, honest.

Dipper would have done the same thing for her.

But… but she thought she would have at least _one_ friend stick with her. But Ariana and Susie and Lilly had ditched her within two days of the start of eighth grade. Even Mia had ditched her and, Mabel didn’t want to be rude but it was true, she was Mia’s only friend.

She had asked Mom and Dad if she could switch schools, go to Millennium High School rather than Piedmont High. That was the special high school; she could take all the art classes she could want and there were only a hundred kids there and it was the weirdo high school- surely she’d fit in there?

It took all of three days to find out how wrong she was. Not only wrong, but because it was so small word spread _fast_ and she was even more obviously ignored than ever before. Nothing had even _happened_ and yet everyone could just _tell_ and-

Mabel broke down into another round of sobs. She wasn’t sure how much more of this she could take. She wanted to go back to the Shack, go back to Stan and Waddles, go back to Candy and Grenda and Pacifica and Wendy and Soos. She wanted to go _home._

“Hey. Hey Mabel-“

Mabel blindly turned to where her brother was and launched herself into his arms, pushing him into the Pillow Pet pile that was at the head of her bed. He wrapped his wings around her and let her cry into his shirt, stroking her hair like Mom used to do.

When her tears had died down a bit, he poked her in the shoulder until she looked up.

“Um, I got a surprise for you. If you don’t mind waiting a second?”

Mabel nodded, wiping her streaming nose on her sweater sleeve and attempting to push her headband back into place.

“Okay cool, just hold on and um, keep not crying.”

A minute later Dipper popped back into existence with _oh my oshkoshbgosh potato beans sweet Moses_ -

In Dipper’s hand was a small, fluffy sheep. He was literally in Dipper’s hand, he was that tiny! The little sheep had black fur and red eyes and three sets of wickedly sharp horns and a barbed thorn tail and Mabel loved him already.

“He doesn’t have a name yet,” Dipper said as Mabel looked at the small sheep in awe. “I asked him and he’d be okay with you naming him.”

“ _Really?!”_  

“Yeah, really, also, um, may want to keep it down, pretty sure people heard you from two houses away and-“ Dipper stopped as he realized that Mabel wasn’t even listening to him.

“Can I pet him?”

“Yeah, that’s why I brought him-“

Before Dipper even finished Mabel had gently picked up the little nightmare and settled him into her lap, carding his wool with her fingers and scratching the top of his head. The nightmare gave out a happy bleat and nuzzled Mabel’s leg. At that point Dipper was pretty sure he saw literal stars in her eyes.

“His name is Fluffernutter!”

Dipper opened his mouth to explain why a creature formed out of terror and fear and made to fight could not possibly be named Fluffernutter. Then he saw the joy on Mabel’s face, tears gone from her eyes as she cooed over the nightmare, and Dipper wisely decided to remain silent.

(Besides, thinking about it, Fluffernutter _would_ fit in with what the rest of the Flock had named themselves.)

———-

The only reason he wasn’t going after _th́̕a͢͜͡t͘ ̛͜w̷͜ơm̀a͠͝n̶͟͏_ was because it would hurt Mabel, but it was taking all of his will power to do so.

The worse thing was that she wasn’t even crying. She wasn’t crying, wasn’t screaming or shouting, wasn’t even talking.

It had been two days since [she had sent Heather packing](http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/131193804913/what-was-mabels-last-relationship-before-henry), and in that time she hadn’t moved from the couch at all. Stan had tried to bring her food, tried to talk to her, put on her favorite cartoons and brought out her craft supplies; nothing. Mabel looked right through Grunkle Stan as if he wasn’t there.  

Dipper was trying his best to leave Mabel alone; it was his fault, his fault her girlfriend was gone, his fault Heather did what she did. He would have kept it up if it weren’t for Stan summoning him into his bedroom with a blood spotted handkerchief and a piece of ham.

Before Dipper could get a word out, Stan growled, “Kid, stop being an ass and go see your sister.”

“But, she won’t want to see me!” Dipper sputtered out, surprised by Stan’s words.

Grunkle Stan pulled on his face with a hand.

“Dipper, she’s your sister. She’s _Mabel_. Do you really think she’d blame you for all this?”

“I-“

“She doesn’t wanna see me kid. She wants to see you. Get your head out of your butt and go to her.”

Under Stan’s glare, Dipper floated downstairs and into the living room.

“Hey…Hey Mabel. Um, is everything ok- oh God, that’s dumb um-”

Mabel, face against the back of the couch, didn’t acknowledge him.

“If you want me to leave I don’t mind I’ll just-“

“I’m sorry Dipper.”

He froze in place.

Mabel, face still buried in the dubious cushions of the couch, went on.

“I’m sorry I brought Heather here. I’m sorry I started going out with her. I’m sorry I trusted her I’m sorry she hurt you that I hurt you that-“

“ ** _N̢̛Ò́̕͟_** -“

His voice rattled the Shack to its rafters and made Mabel curl up even further into the couch and way to fucking go Dipper.

Dipper dropped to the floor, tentatively put a hand on Mabel’s shoulder. Felt a spark of hope that she didn’t shrug away.

“Mabel, none of this is your fault. None of this is on you.”

“I should have known better,” she said in a terribly small voice.

“What? Whoa, no way! Mabel, you loved her. You trusted her. What she did; that’s on Heather not on you.” He gulped, because he was never as good with this kind of thing as Mabel was and went on.

“You’re not…don’t think you’re dumb or anything like that for loving Heather. I liked Heather a lot too. And hey, if there was anyone in this house who should have been able to tell what she was really like, it would be me. I see feelings! And taste them!” That last line, thankfully, got a little snort out of Mabel like he wanted.

“I… I don’t know what else to say,” Dipper admitted. “But I know you. And I know you won’t let her win. I know you won’t let her ruin your life, ruin everything, ruin who you are-“

“Dipper, I was going to ask her to marry me,” Mabel said simply, quietly. “I was looking at rings in town all last week. I thought… I thought she was the one. And now she’s gone. And I feel… empty. Empty and dumb.”

He leaned his forehead against her shoulder, kneeling on the floor.

“You’re not dumb. You’re… Mabel you are so _good._ You love everyone so much, you want to see the best in people. That doesn’t make you dumb. That makes you Mabel.”

A little sob escaped from the depths of the couch, and Dipper pushed his hands under her, picking her up off the couch.

“Let’s get you into bed,” he said. “I’ll find those weird cookies you like, make you some Mabel Juice, and fix the TV so it shows _Real Househusbands of San Fernando Valley._ Sound good?”

She turned her head to look at him for the first time, and her eyes were bloodshot red and her face was still too pale, but she managed a weak smile.

“I…yeah, that’d be good. I’d like that.”

She wouldn’t be better tonight, Dipper thought as they floated up the stairs and into the attic. He was still terrified that Heather broke something in his sister, something precious and good and pure. But for tonight at least, he could make sure that she laughed once or twice, and spent the night in a deep sleep. 

For tonight, he would do everything in his power to make tomorrow a better day. 


	135. Chapter 135

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We’re at a concert and I can’t see a thing let me sit on your shoulders, maybe?

“Henryyyyy-”

“We’ll get kicked out.”

Mabel pouted. “But I can’t _see!_ Everyone is so tall and the only way I’ll be able to throw this bra to Deep Chris is if I can see to target!”

“Um, didn’t you say this band-”

“ _Sev’ral Timez!”_

 _“_ Yeah, didn’t you say they were clones?”

Mabel made a raspberry sound. “Yeah.”

Henry looked at his expectant girlfriend, tried to speak again, and then sighed. He crouched down.

“If we get kicked out, I’m blaming you.”

“Don’t worry, that’s why I brought my attack glitter.”

“You _what?”_


	136. Chapter 136

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i came to the gym to work out but holy god i can’t stop watching you do one armed push ups that’s so hot

It was one thing to know that his new girlfriend fought cults with her demon brother and went monster hunting. One thing to know that her uncle had taught her how to box and that she went jogging  _voluntarily._

It was another to drop by the Shack one day and see Mabel clad only in a sports bra and some old gym shorts working out on the porch. Said working out currently being in the form of one armed push ups.

Mabel switched flawlessly from her left arm to her right mid pushup, and Henry felt the start of a nosebleed coming on.

(When Mabel noticed him and got up, waving and smiling at him, he realized that he had been watching her for five minutes straight and _oh crap-_ )

 


	137. Chapter 137

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You found me crying on the kitchen floor in the middle of the night surrounded by a shattered jelly jar

Willow was awakened by not only by the soft sound of sobbing from the kitchen but the intense, painful waves of sadness coming from…coming from.

Willow sighed, her own heart aching in time with those waves, and softly made her way down to the kitchen.

There was her Mom, a plate of bread on the counter and a broken jar on the floor.

Mom looked up at Willow, eyes red and watery, and Willow almost staggered from the wave of grief that came from her. 

“That…that was the last jar of apple butter your…your…your Dad made.”

She crumpled onto the floor, and Willow joined her there. A second later, dark wings silently folded around them both and together the three of them mourned their loss.


	138. Chapter 138

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IF YOU USE UP ALL THE HOT WATER ONE MORE TIME IM GOING TO BAN YOU TO THE COUCH FOR A MONTH

Unbeknownst to the adults below, they had a small redheaded audience sitting on the stairs, trying their best not to giggle and give themselves away.

“DIPPER.” Daddy didn’t usually raise his voice; he never yelled at them. There was only one person he yelled at and that was Uncle Dipper.

Uncle Dipper popped into the living room with a puff of blue flame and weird egg smell. 

“Wha̛t̀’̵s̨ g̡o͡t y̨o̢ur͞ ͟g̷oat͝ Sa҉v̡ŗa͢?͢” Uncle Dipper drawled, floating in the air.

Daddy, who was wearing the dark blue bathrobe Mommy had made him and had wet hair, pointed a shaking finger at Uncle Dipper.

“You damn well know what! You’re a _demon_. Your body is only a construction of your mind, a _shell._ And you not only don’t need to take a bath or shower, you don’t need to _use all of the god damn hot water to do it.”_

Uncle Dipper shrugged. 

“Sorry.”

Their dad sighed and looked over his glasses, like he did when one of them was in trouble. “Somehow I _really_  doubt that.” He looked Uncle Dipper up and down and then said, “Do that one more time and I’ll ban you to the couch for a month. No more snuggling up with us at night and stealing our warmth.”

Uncle Dipper stopped looking like he was about to laugh. “You wouldn’t.”

“I would and I will.”

There was a creaking of pipes as someone got into the shower and a loud shriek.

Daddy smirked. “I’ll let you explain to Mabel why all the hot water is gone.”

At that the triplets couldn’t hold their giggles in any more. 


	139. Chapter 139

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We’ve been celebrating our wedding anniversary on the wrong day for the past nine years

“Um, Mabes?”

Mabel looked up from her sewing. “Yes Henry?”

“When’s our wedding anniversary?”

Mabel giggled. “You know that silly! It’s your birthday, remember? June 18th!”

Henry, dusty from rooting around in the storage shed, held up a piece of official looking paper. 

“Um, actually, it’s not. Not officially.”

The onesie she was knitting for her shop fell on to her lap. “Wait what?”

“Remember how Stan was going to be the one to legally wed us? Like a priest?”

“Yeah!”

“And then we found out that because Stan impersonated a clergyman on multiple occasions the records office in Bend wouldn’t even give him the time of day?”

“Yeah so the day before the wedding we went to the Justice of the Peace and….oh.”

Henry nodded, looking down at the paper that read “June 17th.”

After a moment, Mabel looked up.

“Well, I won’t tell if you don’t. As far as I’m concerned, we didn’t get _married_  married until June 18th.”

Henry smiled. 

“Sounds good to me.”


	140. Chapter 140

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our AC is out and it’s the middle of the summer

The one problem with the Shack was that it was, well, _old._

Okay, the 1980s was only fifty or so years ago so not _that_ old. But Great-Uncle Ford had been on a budget, and it was still a log cabin, and Stan had salvaged the kitchen equipment from an estate sale in the 90s, and while Soos was a great repairman _now_  he hadn’t _started_ that way and well.

Point being, things went out and broke with great frequency around the Shack.

However, Mabel thought smugly, it wasn’t quite as bad when one’s brother was a demon.

Case in point, while the air conditioning wouldn’t be fixed until next Tuesday, until then, for the price of a few whole chickens, Dipper happily sat in the middle of the living room, exhaling air colder than the middle of January throughout the house.


	141. Chapter 141

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a line Alex dropped during “Between the Pines

Henry was beginning to see why Dipper had looked him that morning and said “Don’t ask.” At the time, making pancakes for hungry sixth graders, it hadn’t made a bit of sense. Now however-

“ _What_ do you call this again?” Henry asked, as he loaded the gnomes’ tiny cart with the last can of strawberry jam that he had made. 

“Bereavement jam!” Jeff said, far too cheerily for someone who apparently was suffering from a bereavement. 

“ Um, I’m er… I’m sorry for your loss,” he managed to get out. Then, before he could stop himself, Henry asked “What do you _do_  with this?”

Jeff rubbed his hands together in glee. “Oh wow, boy siree am I glad you asked! We gnomes have seventy five things we do with bereavement jam and hey, hey Schmebulock, get this moose a chair! So the first thing we do is smear it all over our bodies and let the butterflies lick it off which takes some time but it’s _so_ worth it! Next we rub it into our beards until it dries and then we light our beards on fire and whoever lasts the longest without putting it out wins! Then we rub bereavement jam into our feet and run on sharp rocks. After that we stick it up-”

Two hours later Jeff and his cohort left with their small wagon overloaded with the jam that Henry had made for them, and Henry was left knowing way, _way_  more about gnomes than he ever wanted to.

First and foremost, that they called _all_ jam bereavement jam. Secondly, and far more important, the forest was a far, _far_  freakier place than he ever thought. 


	142. Chapter 142

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas light war

Henry watched as Dipper fluttered around the house making final preparations. Below him, Mabel continuously shouted directions and pointers, working as they both were from her grand design.

He looked to the old man standing next to him.

“Stan, are you _sure_  this is a good idea?”

“Look kid, I’m not losing ‘Best Lights Display’ to _anyone_  let alone that asshole in the used car lot and his stupid fucking robot Santa.”

Henry frowned. “Isn’t this cheating?”

“It’s not cheating unless you get caught!”

Henry blew out a breath. “Yeah Stan but literally _everyone_ in town knows about your nephew. The literal demon.” A pause. “Who can do anything he puts his mind to and-”

Stan waved a hand at Henry in dismissal. “Yeah yeah yeah, yeesh kid, you worry too damn much. It’ll be _fine_ -”

“Grunkle Stan!” Mabel yelled from across the yard, arm slung around a panting Dipper. “We’re _ready!”_

 _“_ Great sweetie!” Stan shot a smirk at Henry and then turned to look at Dipper. 

“Light it up kid!”

The resulting light display could be seen from space in the forty five seconds it was on. It also resulted in Stan, Mabel, and Henry wearing sunglasses and being unable to see for a week after.

The worst part about it, Stan thought as he convalesced in the living room, was that Henry wouldn’t even say “I told you so.”


	143. Chapter 143

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> important otp questions:
> 
> which one is like “fight me”
> 
> and which one, quietly from where the other can’t see, is like “do not touch my sweet cinnamon bun if you ever want to see the light of day again”

The girl wasn’t going to be a problem, Fred (no, that was his Norm name, he was Oblivator the Terrible now) thought. True she had an absolutely wicked bat on her, studded in glass and barbed wire, stained with what he thought was blood. Sure the tears in her sweater showed a torso and legs that were far more toned and muscled than Fr-Oblivator’s own.

Oblivator also had a foot of height on her and the Forces of Darkness on his side so he wasn’t too worried about it.

Then he looked behind her to see a tall, redheaded man enter the room. He looked mild as milk, weak as tea, and far less intimidating than the fierce, terrifying woman that stood snarling in front of Oblivator.

The redheaded man looked Oblivator in the eyes and Fred saw in them steel. Saw antlers blossom from his head for a brief second, antlers that held feet and hands and _oh god-_

Fred suddenly had the feeling that he was completely and totally fucked.


	144. Chapter 144

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> i went to a museum to get some inspiration to draw and then i saw you staring at one of the paintings in awe so i drew you and then you saw my picture and i am dying of embarassment

“I’m so fucking embarrassed.”

“Acasita, you shouldn’t be. What girl _doesn’t_ want a picture of them hand drawn? By their fiancee no less?”

“Yeah, but I was supposed to be drawing the paintings.”

“Surely you di-” Reina continued to look through Acacia’s drawings. All of them.

“ _Oh.”_

Acacia, her brash, loud Acacia, actually blushed.

Under her breath, she muttered, “You’re really pretty and I love you.”

It was Reina’s turn to blush, and then give Acacia a kiss that made the docent whistle in appreciation at its length and enthusiasm. 


	145. Chapter 145

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First snowfall

It was just Dipper and the kids at home today: Mabel and Henry were spending the weekend at a conference in Reno, and the blizzard had trapped Stan at his lodge. Dipper would get Stan in an hour or two but first.

He looked at his handiwork.

This was his kids’ first big snowstorm, or at least the first one since they had started to walk. He had swaddled them in the warmest clothes he could conjure; sure Hank and Acacia couldn’t put their arms down, and Willow looked Not Pleased to have only her nose and eyes peeking out of her scarf, but eh, they’d live with it.

Dipper ushered them onto the porch, the babies toddling as fast as they could in their coats and snow pants.

“Alright. Go nuts!”

The triplets managed to get down to the steps and to the snow.

Then, as one, they each fell face first into the snow, looking like multicolored starfish on a white sand beach.

As the cries began and he rushed to pull them out, Dipper decided that this was one ‘first’ he wouldn’t be telling Mabel and Henry about.


	146. Chapter 146

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Person A gets confetti in their hair… Person B notices.

Dipper poofed into the back yard not with a blaze of flame but with a puff of glitter and confetti.

It was even, Henry was amused to note, flying out of his hair and hat.

Henry stopped his yard work and leaned on his rake.

“Mabel get you?”

Dipper opened his mouth to say something, but only coughed out more glitter and confetti.

“Sorry, meant to tell you she found the confetti canons from the wedding.”


	147. Chapter 147

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine your OC eating pie underneath the dining room table, as Thanksgiving family madness happens around them

Dipper frowned. Thanksgiving was going fantastic; Mabel had invited Soos and Melody and all seven of their kids over, and between the horde of children running around, the knife throwing display Candy and Wendy were giving, and the whole raw turkey he had gotten to stay physical for the night, Dipper was having a grand time. 

But someone was missing and-oh.

Dipper stepped into the kitchen, the table abandoned and covered in a small mountain of dishes. He peeked under the table and yup-

“Hey Little Fighter,” Dipper said gently, crawling under the table with Willow. “Everything okay? Is your bubble holding up?”

Willow nodded.

“It is Uncle Dipper. I just-”

Dipper smiled sadly. “It’s a lot, I know, and you needed a break.”

The second grader nodded, sending her braids flying around her head.

Dipper snapped. “Hey, know what will make you feel better?”

Willow smiled. “What Uncle Dipper?”

He snapped again and the pecan pie from on top of the oven appeared between them both.

“Pie.”

“Uncle Dipper, Mommy and Daddy haven’t said it’s desert time yet-”

“Well you got to listen to me too, like you do with Grunkle Stan yes?”

Willow nodded.

“Well, _I_ say that we are going to have special under the table pie now.”

Willow giggled. “Are we going to use our hands?”

Dipper, who had already began to dig in with said hands, paused.

“Yes. Yes we are.”

(When Henry thought to look for them an hour later, he found them asleep with distended bellies and an empty pie tin between them.)


	148. Chapter 148

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TAU Prompt: Lucy Ann challenges Alcor to pretend to be a vampire, and the fall-out when it is eventually discovered that Alcor is not actually a vampire.

A body came sailing down from the road above and rolled down the side of the ravine, a wooden stake shoved so thoroughly into the heart that the point emerged out on the other side. The head that matched the body came falling down a second later, bouncing off the rocks and exposed tree roots. Fluffy brown hair did nothing to hide either the odd birthmark on the forehead or the surprised look on the face. Both parts of the corpse slowed to a stop and settled on the bottom of the ravine as above there was the sound of a car peeling away from the scene.

Silence reigned again in the night, and the corpse remained still for a minute, two, five. Then it….glitched for lack of a better term, shifting through forms that would have made a human, had they been there, puke. Finally the form settled on a healthy, whole, alive-

Dipper Pines buried his head in his hands.

This was completely embarrassing. The only saving grace was that she was nowhere near-

A slow clap interrupted the still of the night and Dipper groaned. Apparently that was too much to wish for.

The diminutive vampire faded in from the darkness, cloak bright improbable red admid the trees.

“Wow, that was really fucking impressive. But in like a really sad and funny and kind of pathetic way.”

Dipper sighed. “Hello Lucy Ann.”

“You know, I’ve not actually seen anyone get staked in like, two or three hundred years. Not since they declared it a form of murder.” She whistled. “You must of pissed them off good or been, I don’t know, really fucking obvious and trying way too hard.”

“How did you get here?”

She ignored him and went on. “See how hard it is? You and I are both monsters but there’s different kinds of monstering.” Lucy Ann paused. “I DID try and give you pointers, you know.”

“I know.”

Lucy Ann came over and patted him on the shoulder. “Great job on the fangs though.”

“Thanks.”

The patting hand turned into a fist and punched him. “Time to pay up.”

Dipper dug a crumpled fifty dollar bill out of his jacket and gave it to Lucy Ann who triumphantly pocketed it.

“Sweet. Hey kid, why don’t we get pancakes, my treat?”

“You’re just going to drink syrup straight from the bottle and get us kicked out again,” Dipper pointed out.

“Yeah but I’ll wait until you’ve finished eating.”

The demon thought about it, then shrugged. “Fair enough.”

Dipper grabbed the hand of one of his closest and oldest friends, and together they blipped out of the forest clearing.


	149. Chapter 149

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: one of the Bill reincarnations interacting with an axolotl or several.

[Daemon AU time! ](http://marypsue.tumblr.com/post/139523678188/they-settle-late-ians-already-fourteen-already)

—-

They stepped into the office, and Ian coughed as some dust stirred in the air.

“Sheesh, I know we were gone for awhile but not _that_  long.” He looked down at Bob but she wasn’t by his leg. Instead her eye was locked on the top of his computer and-

Oh.

Perched on the top of his computer was the stuffed aoxotl Mira had gotten for him out of a claw machine at a carnival when they had first started dating. Bob named it Kryptos, and Ian talked to it whenever he hit a dead end in the boarding process and felt ready to ram his head into a wall repeatedly. 

Ian sat gently down on the floor, wincing as pain shot through his head at the movement. Bob flowed into his lap, more like water than a cat. Her fur was impossibly soft under his fingers, and she began to purr loud enough to rattle the windows. 

“Are you okay?” he finally asked.

“Are you?” Bob countered, and Ian winced. 

They both looked at Kryptos on the monitor, skin shiny and pink, unmarred, unblemished, a big friendly happy grin, soft rounded toes and softer webbing.

“Do you miss it?”

She looked at him inscrutably for a second, and then shifted in his lap back into her aoxotl form, the form he had known the other half of his soul as for most of his life.

The form that should have felt comfortable and familiar but didn’t. It felt like he had a full body itch, one that went deep under his skin and into his muscle and bones. It felt _wrong_  and he knew Bob felt the same.

She shifted back into her tabby form, settled once more. "Yes,” she answered. But they both knew that she was lying. 

(the itchy feeling, while diminished, was still there)


	150. Chapter 150

Stan stepped into the living room, dark except for the light of the TV.

On the couch, Mabel snored like a train engine, the sound familiar to Stan after years of living with his grandniece. She leaned against Henry, who’s head was leaning against the wall. On Henry’s other side was Dipper, mouth leaking golden drool onto Henry’s shoulder. On top of the adults like puppies were the triplets. Henry’s arms were around Willow, who had curled up in a ball on his lap. Hank was half on the arm of the couch and half on his mother. By his hand on the floor sat the TV remote, long forgotten. Acacia was on the floor, cradled between Dipper’s legs, one of which she was clinging to like a sloth in her sleep. 

Stan couldn’t remember the last time everyone had looked so…. peaceful. Relaxed. Safe.

He sighed, and went to the kitchen to grab a chair.

Someone had to watch over them after all. 


	151. Chapter 151

Acacia scrambled up on his lap, all knees and elbows. She was almost getting too big to do this, Dipper thought at first then put that thought out of his mind. Nope never too big.

“Uncle Dipper?”

He smiled down at his nibling. “Yes Pole Star?”

“What’s your real name?”

“Dipper- you know that already silly billy.”

Her aura turned pink and she giggled.

“Nooooo, your REAL real name!”

He let his hat fly further above his head so that he could scratch his hair in befuddlement.

“Oh, THAT name! Well, it’s a secret but you’re my nibling-”

“AND the oldest AND the tallest,” Acacia pointed out with all the pride a seven year old could muster.

“Indeed. So I don’t see the harm in telling you. It’s Abel.”

Acacia gaped at him.

“ABEL?! Like Mommy is Mabel and you’re-”

“Your grandparents have much to answer for,” Dipper agreed gravely.

Acacia rolled off his lap laughing.

–

She wasn’t laughing that night at dinner when she told everyone’s Dipper’s secret.

“Hate to break it to you kid,” Stan grunted between mouthfuls of mashed potatoes. “I saw your uncle and mom in the hospital. Didn’t see any Abels.”

Acacia gaped at her Grunkle.

“Yup, sorry sweetie but no rhyming names for us,” Mabel confirmed. She looked at Dipper for a minute and said, “Though that didn’t stop us from trying in kindergarten remember?”

Dipper usually tried to forget that but he nodded, tearing away another bite of raw steak as he did so.

Acacia opened her mouth but before she could speak Stan said, “You’re on your own on this one kiddo.”

Mabel beamed. “Yup! Neither of us are telling!”

Acacia’s head whipped over to Henry.

“Daddy?”

“When you find out, let me know,” he said, a smile escaping on his face.

Acacia turned to glare at Dipper. There was fire and fury in her gaze as she stared daggers at him. Dipper gave her a bloody grin and returned to his steak.

This should be fun.


	152. Chapter 152

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine you and your favorite character being connected by the red string of fate

Henry woke up. He started to sit up but felt something tug on him.

He looked down to see his hands and wrists with multiple red strings tied onto them. Some fingers had multiple threads, and some of the dangling threads had obviously been broken at points and tied back together.

Henry held his hands up higher and tugged gently, and was completely not surprised to feel and see that the threads connected him to his wife, currently snoring like a chainsaw next to him.

Henry flopped back onto the bed, and closed his eyes again. He had no idea why Dipper did this, but he would find out.

After another bit of sleep.


	153. Chapter 153

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Imagine your favorite character wearing bright pink shutter shades

“Mabel no.”

His twin pouted. “Oh _come on_  Dipdops! You wear my sweaters out like, _all_  the time!”

“On accident!”

A sly smile came and went quickly on Mabel’s face and Dipper knew he had made a tactical error.

“Oh so you’re ashamed to wear my sweaters are you?”

“Mabel I-”

“Don’t want to be seen in public with them eh?”

“Now just-”

The tone of her voice turned wheedling. “You could make that up for me you know. Just one picture in these awesome shades-”

Quick as a flash, she had darted to him and shoved the ridiculous pink shutter shades onto his face.

“ _Mabel-”_

It was sheer chance that he was pulled to a summons then and there with those stupid not even really sunglasses on, but even so, it was a really _stupid_  chance.


	154. Chapter 154

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> have a staring contest

“I cannot believe you,” Henry said with a shake of his head.

Dipper said nothing, intent on his prize.

“You are in your forties. A demon of unimaginable power. You have literally helped raise my children.”

Still nothing from Dipper’s end, though his wings twitched slightly.

Henry barely kept the smile from his face, even though he knew Dipper wouldn’t see it. 

“I’m just saying Dipper; staring contest with the cat? Really?”

(The cat won)


	155. Chapter 155

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> UP AT 3AM BOTTLE FEEDING THE BABY

Not a day went by that Dipper didn’t wish that the Transcendence hadn’t happened.

Or that if it had to happen, that he would have been able to beat Bill before Bill had the idea to possess him

Or that he and Bill had died together, had died and not doomed him to an eternity of existence. 

However, as much as his existence (not life, this was at most the pale imitation of life) pained him, Dipper had to admit that being a demon did come with its advantages.

Right now, the main one being the ability to help his exhausted sister and brother with feeding three fussy babies at three in the morning.

Hell, he didn’t need to sleep any way, may as well take advantage of it.


	156. Chapter 156

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's been a while since I caught up on TAU 'canon', but is Ford dealing with the triplets a possibility?

Ford blinked, eyelashes and eyebrows thoroughly singed now.

“She sneezes fire,” he finally managed to choke out. Next to him, his brother let out a gravelly laugh.

“And breathes it, and lights her fingers up….” Stan paused. “Also the bathtub. _That_ was interesting.”

“And it doesn’t hurt her?”

Ford got thwapped by a small fist.

“Grunkle Ford I’m right here!” Willow scowled at him from her perch on his lap, the worry that had been on her face after she sneezed now gone.

“Oh, yes, yes. I’m sorry my dear girl.” Ford cleared his throat. “Does it hurt?”

Willow giggled and shook her head, sending her braids flying. “Nope!”

Ford’s fingers itched for a pen and paper.

“Fascinating! How large of a flame can you produce? And for how lo-“

Out of the corner his eye, Ford saw Stan frown.

“Hey kiddo,” Stan interrupted. He held up his beer can and shook it. “Take this inside and get me another one?”

Willow wiggled off of Ford’s lap, and ran over to Stan, plucking the can from his hand before bolting inside.

Ford frowned at Stan.

“Stanley, I’m not sure its appropriate to have a five year old fetching alcohol for you.”

Stan snorted. “Ma had us getting her gin bottle for her from the time we could carry a glass bottle without breaking it. But that’s not the point.”

“What is then?”

Stan crossed his arms and glared at Ford. “Don’t be treating our niece like a lab rat.”

“Stan!”

For a second Stan almost began to argue, almost began to let his temper get the best of him. But then he paused. Things were still strained between him and his brother at times, but on the whole they were far better than he had ever hoped it would be. And they were better in part because over the years Stan had finally, barely, learned to think before he spoke (sometimes anyway.)

Stan tried again.

“Look Poindexter. I know you’re curious about what Willow can do-“

His brother’s eyes lit up. “Absolutely! At the very least she should have been burnt to a crisp long ago. She shouldn’t have that power like, like-“

“Like Dipper?”

“Yes exactly! As for her empathy…astounding. I’ve not ever seen or heard of anything like it in this dimension! I thought living with Ma would have prepared me for the possibility but I was wrong.” Ford began to rummage in his coat for a notebook. “And Ma never seemed to be able to control her Sight but Willow can. I really need to get her in the lab-“

Stan stopped his train of thought. “There. There it is. Ford you can’t _do_ that.”

His twin looked at him completely befuddled and Stan sighed. Of the two of them, it was him that had the people skills (though that wasn’t really saying much on his part either.)

“Why not? Dipper and I work together all the time in the lab, exploring what he can and can’t do-“

“That’s different Ford!”

“How?”

“Dipper’s grown,” Stan replied. He did _not_ say “Because you’re both overeager eggheads,” as well because he had learned a measure of tact over the years.

Ford still looked at him blankly and Stan sighed once more.

“Look Ford. Dipper is an adult. He can tell you to stop when he’s tired or when he’s done for the day or doesn’t want to answer a question. He knows you are interested in him for him as well, and not just because he does fancy schmacy tricks.”

Stan took his glasses off and began to clean them. “Willow is five. Willow’s been told by all of us that she has to listen to what you say. So she’s not going to tell you to stop if she’s tired or hungry or bored or unhappy. She’s going to keep doing what you say, especially since you’re her neat uncle that only comes once in a while. She loves you and she won’t want to disappoint you, even if she’s hurting.”

“I…I hadn’t-“

“What she’s going to think if the only time you want to spend with her is to poke and prod her and ask her questions that are going to go over her head? What are Hank and Acacia gonna think if you only pay attention to Willow and not to them?” Stan closed his mouth, before “I’m not seeing you split up this family again,” because that…that was neither here nor there, wasn’t the time for that.

Ford looked devastated.

“Stan…Stan you have to believe me, that wasn’t my intention at all-“

Stan leaned over and clapped Ford on the shoulder.

“I know. I know you love our girl- _both_ our girls, and our boy. You just get carried away sometimes.” The clap became a punch, and Ford winced. “You got a good uncle in you, just don’t forget that and you’ll be fine.”

Stan leaned back in his chair.

“And I bet Mabel and Henry wouldn’t mind if you and Willow ran some of your weird test things or whatever. Just not all the time.”

Ford still looked thoughtful as Willow ran back outside with Stan’s beer.

“Willow?”

She turned to him, eyes glowing with excitement and joy.

“Yeah Grunkle Ford?”

He smiled. “I got some old chemicals I need to get rid of in the lab. Want to take them out in the yard and light them on fire?”


	157. Chapter 157

Three pairs of eyes, hazel and blue, looked at him, and Dipper knew that he was fucked.

To confirm that fact, Acacia pulled her thumb out of her mouth (a habit they were trying to break) and said, “We’re telling.”

“You can’t tell on me,” Dipper sputtered, thinking as fast as he could. “I’m an adult.”

“We heard Mommy tell you to leave the forks alone,” Hank pointed out, his stuffed pink dog in one hand.

Inwardly, Dipper cursed himself for his lack of control. At least he had gotten his jacket on when he heard the kids coming down the stairs. But he hadn’t been fast enough to hide the forks, and the golden blood staining the tines and pooling in a small puddle around him on the floor.

Hadn’t been fast enough to hide from his three stars who had only come in for a snack and instead found him undone.

Willow cocked her head at him, with a look that was far older than her actual age deep in her eyes.

“Your colors are sad. Sad and embarrassed,” she said quietly.

He let out a rueful snort. “That’s how I’m feeling.”

The triplets looked at each other for a moment, speaking without speaking in the way he and Mabel used to do, still did. Then they rushed forward and buried Dipper in sticky, soft smelling hugs and kisses.

“We won’t tell Mommy,” Acacia said, voice muffled by his shirt front.

“We’re sorry you’re not feeling good,” Hank added. He shoved Leviathan, his stuffed animal, at him, and Dipper felt sick. They shouldn’t have seen this, shouldn’t have been exposed to this-

He hugged them tight, hugged them until they squeaked. “No, I’m sorry you three had to see this.”

“Mommy says you need to stop being so sorry so much,” Willow said. “She says you’re going to turn into a giant sorry if you don’t watch it.”

Dipper smiled in spite of himself.

“She did, did she?”

“And I said you have no control over your impulses at times,” and oh fuck where had Henry come from? The kids abandoned Dipper in a heartbeat, and ran over to cuddle their father, standing in the doorway fresh from work.

His eyes were sad as he saw the forks and his brother on the floor, but there was still a smile on his face as he went on. “But we know you’re doing the best you can, trying as hard as you can, and that’s all we can ask for in the end.”

Dipper stood up, and walked over to his stars, his brother, and joined them in the hug.  


	158. Chapter 158

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From tumblr prompt "Henry's friends from before he moved to Gravity Falls?"

The bell on the door jingled and Ms. Morecombe looked up. Most of the kids only came in during class time, when their teachers brought them in, not during lunch.

A boy shuffled in as quietly and as unobtrusively as possible.

Ms. Morecombe smiled. But then most kids weren’t Henry Corduroy.

The smile faded and her lips pursed as she took note of the busted lip, the fading bruise over one eye.

Apparently his parents couldn’t even be bothered to be _subtle_ anymore. Mentally she made a note to make a report to CPS again, though she knew with all too sick certainty that it wouldn’t do a damn thing, not as long as they had Henry  parroting whatever lie they forced down his throat and-

Ms. Morecombe forced herself to smile again.

That wasn’t important right now. What was important was the little boy-well, not little, considering that he towered over the rest of his classmates, bless him- in front of her.

She grinned at him, and the grin came a little easier.

“Hello Henry.”

A shy smile dawned on his face. “Hi Ms. Morecombe.”

“Did you eat lunch first before coming in?”

He quailed. “Um…”

“Henry, we’ve talked about this. It’s important to eat.”

Henry blushed. “I know, but it’s pizza day and the cheese was a little green and there was mold when I opened my milk-“

Ms. Morecombe sighed, and pulled the peanut butter sandwich out of her own lunch box and handed it over. Honestly, school lunches had never been _great_ but this was fucking ridiculous. At least her girlhood lunches had been edible.

Henry didn’t take it, looking solemnly at her.

“I don’t want to take your lunch away from you Ms. Morecombe.”

Her heart squeezed painfully, but with long practice she kept the smile on her face. “Don’t worry Henry, I have some chips and a banana too. Why don’t you eat that real quick and then I’ll get you started on some work.”

At the mention of work he instantly brightened, and God what a difference that word made, like the life had been breathed back into him.

“What am I going to do today?!”

Ms. Morecombe looked behind her real quick.

“Well I have some books that need to be shelved, and some other books that need to be cleaned.”

“You can clean books?!”

“With covers like these?” And five hundred pairs of sticky fingers touching them, she silently added. “Absolutely!”

She pointed a finger at him. “But not until you eat first, got it?”

The shy smile on his face bloomed into a grin, a little gap between his front teeth. “Yes Ms. Morecombe.”

“You’re a good boy Henry.” She paused. “And I think, one day, you’ll be a great librarian.”

(Twelve years later Ms. Morecombe received an envelope in the mail postmarked from Gravity Falls. The only thing inside was a picture of a smiling redhead standing in front of a ramshackle library, the words “I made it,” inked on the back.)


	159. Chapter 159

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> IT IS 3AM AND YOU THOUGHT IT WAS A GOOD IDEA TO LIGHT FIREWORKS? I’LL KILL YOU

Henry looked at the light show happening in the sky above him. It had been going on for a good two hours now, and at this point, half of the town had migrated to his lawn, clad in pajamas and nightrobes and a bear, to watch the show. Even Mabel and Stan, who had bitched and moaned as much as he did when they were first awoken, were now silently watching in awe and wonder alongside their friends and family. 

He turned to look at Dipper, who returned the gaze even as his arms twisted and shot back and forth, orchestrating the display.

Henry didn’t mention that as this was a manifestation of Dipper’s magic, he could have done this with zero sound at all, instead of the booms that were somehow even louder than regular fireworks. Or that while yes it _was_  the Fourth of July fireworks were usually saved for the evening, rather than three in the morning. 

A particularly loud boom shook the Shack to its rafters, and Henry felt his teeth rattle.

He looked Dipper dead in the eyes.

“Are you just fucking with me now?”


	160. Chapter 160

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> you work for the campus radio station and keep dedicating songs to me

Hank was talking out a glitch he kept running into in his program to his trusty rubber duck, Edward Quackhands, when a familiar voice interrupted his thoughts from the radio. 

A husky, sultry voice, purred and poured from the speakers.

“Hello lovelies, it’s 11pm, and you know what that means.”

Hank smiled.

“It’s time for Rockabilly Revival, with your host Vivacious Vi.” A pause. “Which is me, as no doubt you surely all guessed.”

He could hear the fumble of cd’s being put into the ancient player, and then Vi’s voice again.

“This first song goes out to my one, my only-”

Hank blushed.

“-the one I hold above all else. Here’s “Dirty Dishes and Dirtier Water” by Rever-”

Hank turned around. The sink _was_  rather full.

Oops.


	161. Chapter 161

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ‘My cereal is always on the bottom shelf but today they changed the layout so I can’t reach it AND I WILL NOT ACCEPT YOUR HELP YOU GIANT”

“Mabes.”

“NO HENRY.”

“Mabel please, the manager is getting security-”

“I ALMOST GOT IT.”

“Also, you don’t need to shout I can hear you-”

Mabel, wife, businesswoman, mother of three, fell off the shelving that she had been climbing, trying to reach the box of CocoaRocks on the very top shelf.

Henry reached down to help her up. “Look, you gave it a good try so why don’t I-”

Mabel reached inside of her sweater and pulled out her grappling hook.

Henry buried his head in his hands.


	162. Chapter 162

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m learning to drive and I crashed into your fence and part of your garden I’m so sorry I’ll put the fence back and help you replant.”

Acacia had barely gotten three words of apology out to Mrs. Valentino (who seemed remarkably chill about a rusty old truck accidentally backing up through their yard) when she saw-

“Uh…Uh Mrs. Valentino?”

“Oh honey call me Janice!”

“Um, Mrs. Janice there’s-”

Acacia Ruth Polaris Pines was no coward, but there was cowardice, and there was the fucking zombie arms and heads beginning to break free from the confines of the earth, helped by the tire tracks left by the truck.

Janice turned to where Acacia’s finger was pointing, and even as Acacia scrambled to get her brass knuckles to hand and wished she had a bat like Hank, the older woman began to laugh.

“Oh goodness! Not _these_  shenanigans again!”

“A…again?” Acacia asked weakly, trying to keep an eye on three emerging zombies all at once.

“Greeeg! Oh Greg honey!”

Mr. Valentino’s head popped out of the kitchen window.

“Can you get the sawed off shotgun and the flamethrower? We got a little problem to take care of!”

Janice turned to Acacia, who was feeling a little dumbstruck, and not at the living dead.

“You don’t mind helping a couple of old folks destroy the post-living do you?”

“No ma’am.” As long as they didn’t say anything about the truck to her parents, Acacia would happily fight a thousand zombies.


	163. Chapter 163

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I SWEAR to GOD if I hear you showering at THREE IN THE MORNING again, I will seriously fight you, the pipes in this building are RIGHT above my bedroom, WHY are you taking showers at THREE AM

Henry took a deep breath in, and then let it out.

Dipper stood in front of him, clad only in a black towel that had little golden embroidered stars on it. His hair, his skin, his wings: all of them dripped rivulets and droplets of water onto the floor, the puddle at Dipper’s feet growing larger and larger. 

“I’m not going to say anything about how you don’t _need_  to take a shower,” Henry finally said, the beginnings of a headache starting behind his eyes. “Showers feel good, especially hot ones, I get that.”

Dipper only stared back at Henry, eyes glowing in the dark of the hallway.

Henry stared at Dipper for another minute longer. The water was beginning to seep into the floorboards, because of course this situation called for water damage on top of the unexpected wake up call.

He crossed his arms and glared at his soon to be brother in law over the tops of his glasses.

“Any particular reason you like to take showers at three in the morning? As opposed to say, the afternoon, at which time the shower would be equally available?”

Dipper grinned, baring rows of fangs at Henry, and then disappeared.

The towel dropped, and even though Henry was still pissed, he had to give Dipper this: at least the towel soaked up all the water he had left behind. 


	164. Chapter 164

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> standing quietly together after long, exhausting days, leaning into each other for support, breathing in the smell of home, fingers carding through hair and stroking down spines, until they feel like they can relax and smile properly again

The only clues he got that it was one of _those_  days was the conspicuous absence of even Dipper’s presence, and Mabel’s bat, looking suspiciously cleaner than usual, moved from its usual spot in the umbrella stand, now lying forgotten on the porch.

She had been looking out the window, waiting for him to come home. Mabel didn’t turn as her fiance entered the room, only leaned into his embrace as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against his front.

There were tears in her sweater, rips in her skirt and large gaping holes and burn marks in her leggings. He held up her small hands in his, and on them he saw scratches on top of scratches, scratches he knew without having to see would go all the way up her arms. Arms and legs strong and thick with muscle quivered against him.

Her hair was wet and sticky with blood, both red and gold.He felt it leaking onto his vest, but he didn’t care. A little seltzer water would get that stain out right away.

He wasn’t sure about the other stains.


	165. Chapter 165

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A pretentious tea shop with brews that no one can pronounce

Acacia looked out of the corner of her eye, and then over her shoulder on her blind side, before ducking into the alley. 

Her hair was safely tucked up under a large knit cap, and she was in a shapeless coat unlike any of her usual trenchcoats or more tailored gear. And while the sigils she had traced on the inside lining and on the soles of her shoes would only slow Uncle Dipper down, it would give her enough warning to make her escape.

She sighed as she snuck into Teagasm through the back door, per her agreement with the bemused owner. 

She wouldn’t be having this problem if it weren’t for years of her younger self mocking Willow’s preference for tea.


	166. Chapter 166

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> build a blanket fort

The living room was gone.

Well, the floor was at any rate, along with most of the furniture, all covered under blankets. Henry recognized the Frozen comforter off Hank’s bed, four or five crocheted blankets that Mabel kept in the closet for guests, and the plaid blanket he had left over from college.

There was an opening into the fort by the doorway, and Mabel’s head popped out.

“Welcome to Blanketsburg Henry!” She waggled her eyebrows. “Can I give you a tour?”

“I don’t think I’ll fit in there comfortably,” Henry demurred.

Dipper’s head popped out from under Mabel’s.

“Oh yeah, I made a deal with Dippindots. You can stand up inside of here and everything!”

On second thought, he always _had_ wanted to spend the day away in a blanket fort. 


	167. Chapter 167

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> names, 2/?

Dipper was watching Henry work on the truck, his legs sticking stork like out from under the vehicle, when he felt himself being watched in turn.

He turned his head around (mainly because nothing said a fun Saturday like casual body horror) and saw-

“Hey Willow-bean.” 

His youngest nibling stood and stared at him, her gaze far too deep and penetrating for a seven year old. Especially a seven year old wearing a nightgown with a rainbow barfing dolphin on it and a Raggedy Ann doll in her hand. 

Dipper checked his shields, making sure everything he was, everything he would be was locked down and away from sight and Sight. He still wasn’t entirely sure all of what Willow saw, which worried him. Most days he rested easy knowing that she only ( _only_. sheesh) had the Sight and her empathy. But then she would open her mouth and make an observation or ask about the eyes and-

“I think your name is Harvey.”

Jolted out of his reverie, Dipper turned the rest of his body to join his head and knelt down in front of his niece.

“Wrong answer but good guess.” Dipper paused.

“Uh, why Harvey?”

Another one of those penetrating gazes, the one that made Dipper feel like his little fighter could see him inside and out and wasn’t that fucking terrifying and-

“You look like a Harvey to me.” Then a grin, a shit eating grin just like the one Mabel had, the one Stan had, bloomed on her face. “Also, Harvey’s a dorky name and you’re my dorky uncle.”

Dipper drew back, feigning offense. 

“Dorky? I’ll show you dorky!”

Henry pulled himself out from under his truck, covered in oil and grease, to see Dipper flying around chasing Willow, tickle fingers extended. 

He smiled and made a note to call Dipper ‘Harvey’ in a few weeks, to see what would happen. 


	168. Chapter 168

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> names, 3/?

“I’ve been doing some research,” Hank informed Dipper, as seriously as a seven year old with a missing tooth and ice cream smeared all over his face could.

Dipper looked up from his own bowl of ice cream, Pickle Juice and Cherry and Peanut Dippin Dots that he got from the place at the mall.

“You have, have you?” 

Hank nodded, kicking his legs as he and his uncle swung on the porch swing. “Yeah. They let us have some free time today in computer class.”

Dipper remembered what the Internet held-literally remembered all of it, and proceeded to get a triple brain freeze from the information, the ice cream, and the fear of whatever the fuck his Hank could have run into on the Web.

Hank bent over to get his backpack off the rickety planks of the porch and pulled it onto his lap.  He unzipped it, and pulled out a large stack of papers.

“Uh, that’s not your homework is it? Pretty sure second graders shouldn’t have that much to do.”

Hank ignored him and went on. “I asked Mommy what your birthday was and she said August 31st, 1999. So I found a website full of baby names from when you were born and I printed out all the boy names-”

He looked at Dipper intently and a chill ran down Dipper’s spine.

“Ms. Hamilton would only let me print out the first five hundred names, but she said if I didn’t know by tomorrow she’d let me print out more. Okay, so the first one is Jacob. Is that your name?”

This was going to be a long, _long_ afternoon.


	169. Chapter 169

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> someone falls into a wells.or is pushed into one.

It was a rare Saturday that there were no errands to be run, things to be fixed, or fires to put out (more often then not they were literal fires as well.) Henry put his cup of coffee down and settled into the porch swing for a long afternoon of reading in the sun.

Dipper drifted out of the house, physical and visible to Henry’s eye thanks to a pie Mabel had sacrificed to him earlier (they had been married for a year now, and Henry had learned not to ask what was in the pie.) In his arms were multiple glass bottles, of different sizes and colors.

Curious now, Henry watched as Dipper drifted over to the large hole in the front yard that both Mabel and Stan had assured him really _was_  bottomless. He still wasn’t sure if he should believe that or not, but in this day and age, he wasn’t about to go test it out either.

Dipper lined the bottles up around the edge of the pit, the light shining through them and throwing different colors on to the grass. Once they were all aligned around the pit, Dipper threw himself on the ground, grass staining his white dress shirt as he fell onto his stomach.

The demon stared intently at the bottles for two, five, seven minutes, and Henry in turn stared at him. What the fuck was Dipper doing?

Suddenly a hand whipped out fast as a flash, and knocked one of the bottles in. Dipper peered in after it, nodding with great satisfaction.

Now that Henry thought about it, as he saw Dipper knock another bottle into the pit, his brother in law _had_  smelt funny as he walked by. Almost like-

 _Oh._  

Dipper knocked a third bottle in, chortling as he did so, and Henry returned to his book. It wasn’t everybody who had a big cat for a brother. 


	170. Chapter 170

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Alcor vs the Fishtank

Dipper looked at the glass bowl.

Three guppies- Ally, Hambone, and Water- should have been looking back at him but instead were currently floating upside down in the water.

Jumping from one plane to another in the same room as the fishtank: bad idea.

–

Dipper looked at the glass bowl.

Three goldfish- Ally 2, Elmo Kermit Oscar, and Orange- currently rested in his stomach.

No more hanging out in the kids room while he was affected by Yggdrasil then.

—

Dipper looked at the glass bowl. 

Three plecos- Ally 3, Funderbucker, and Ugly- once again floated to the surface of the water instead of sucking the sides of the glass.

Apparently fish food from the Mindscape was a no go as well.

–

Henry looked at the glass bowl. 

Three hermit crabs- Ally 4, George Washington, and Shell- lay outside of their shells, dead.

Henry sighed.

This was probably a sign. 

Luckily Dipper was all the pet they really needed. 


	171. Chapter 171

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> one making awful breakfast for the other and the other eating it because they appreciate it that much

It wasn’t that Mabel couldn’t or didn’t cook, because she did! 

It was just that what Mabel considered edible, most people considered as “an invitation to diabetes” or “only your weird demon brother would touch this and even then I don’t like your chances sweetie.”

Henry looked down at the plate in front of him, then up at the hopeful, excited face of his girlfriend. She had made him breakfast in bed for their “third monthiversary!”

He looked down again. 

It wasn’t that it was a stack of pancakes. Or that each pancake had been dyed with food dye a different color of the rainbow; he liked that. 

It was more that between each pancake was a slathering of cake frosting, each layer a different flavor. Not only that but the pancakes had been topped with literally an entire bottle of syrup. An entire bottle of syrup, and then garnished with so many sprinkles that the color had leached out into the syrup turning it a muddy color, and twenty or thirty maraschino cherries.

“What do you think?”

Henry was fucked.


	172. Chapter 172

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “listen,you literally drip off ectoplasm every time you phase through walls and IM the one who has to clean it up so can you just use doors maybe??”

Henry dunked his mop into the bucket of water again when Dipper popped into view.

“Hey Henryyy-” Dipper’s voice died out. “Uh, did I do something?”

Henry looked at Dipper blankly. 

Then he looked at the dark blood red stain on the floor, from where Dipper had phased into the basement. 

Then he looked up at a similar stain in the ceiling from when Dipper went to check on the babies.

Then he looked at yet another stain just over the couch from where Dipper had jumped, screamed like a tiny rabbit, and phased out of the room after there had been a jump scare in the movie they had been watching.

Then he-

“Um. I can, clean that up for you. For a drop of blood.”

Henry leaned on his mop and looked at Dipper over the top of his glasses.

“Ugh, fuck, okay for…for…” The demon choked it out, but barely. “- _free_.”


	173. Chapter 173

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TAU prompt: Alcor and Henry discuss The Woodsman? Thank you! I love this AU so much!

He sensed Henry before he actually saw him, all swirling colors of yellow and breen and that hint of bright sky blue that always touched (tainted- _no_ Dipper) his aura since they saved Willow.

Dipper finished drying a dish, having made a deal for an extra slice of pie in exchange for dish duty, and turned to look at his brother-in-law.

“What’s up Henry?”

Outside Dipper could hear the noises of the girls setting up the wickets and balls for a game of croquet, while Hank helped Stan try and chase down Gompers, who liked to eat the balls.

Henry said nothing, and Dipper took a closer look at him. There were bags under his eyes, and his skin was a little paler than usual, but there wasn’t anything else that seemed out of the ordinary about him. He was still tall, still dressed in battered jeans and a blue flannel shirt, still had the odd wooden antlers that Dipper was getting used to seeing (liar.)

“I…I… I need to ask you something Dipper.” Henry blushed bright furious red, aura flushing with lime green embarrassment.

Dipper walked over to the kitchen table and sat down, trying to put Henry at ease. Henry joined him a second later, having poured the both of them a glass of milk.

Dipper waited for Henry to talk but the other man still said nothing, looking intently into his glass of milk.

 _O_ kay. He grinned at Henry, baring his fangs. “What do you got for me? Worried I can’t answer it? You know that I know _l͏̬̖̝o̬̭̣t̞̬s̢̬ of͇̖ ̷̥̞t͚h̼͎͉͎͙͔̹ịng̦̣̖̱̟s͙͕̺.͙_ ”

“You don’t have to do that schtick on me Dipper,” Henry said quietly, but the slight smile on his face told Dipper that it worked.

Henry sighed and leaned back in the chair, one of the ones Dan had made him and Mabel for their fifth anniversary.

“Do you remember last night, when Mabel read us that thing she found online over dinner? _The Stone Rose_ or something like that?”

“I wish I could forget,” Dipper said with a shudder. It was bad enough that Mabel had a love-no, an _obsession_ \- with finding, reading, and sharing Twin Souls fanfiction with him and Henry. It was even worse that she had figured out that dinner meant Henry and Dipper were a captive audience and did half of her dramatic reading at that time. Considering that Stan and the kids thought this equally hilarious meant that they were both fucked.

He wasn’t sure how the Woodsman had entered the Twin Souls lexicon; there had been media coverage after Caney Patch, true. But Dipper had eat- _taken care_ of everyone there, there shouldn’t have been anything linking the two of them. (He had mentioned that to Henry, who had given him a particularly old fashioned look in response.) But however it happened, Henry was now part of the fanon for better or worse. Half of the time he was the husband of Mizar, half of the time he was the one to steal Mizar away, and the other half of the time-

“I don’t think that author knows how penises work,” Dipper said with a shudder. Hell wasn’t hot. Hell was your sister reading badly written fanfiction about you and your brother having weird demon sex. The breadth and type of fanfiction that Mabel read and enjoyed terrified him like nothing else could.

“Or European mythology,” Henry agreed with a grave nod. He took a drink from his glass and finally met Dipper’s eyes.

“But it got me thinking.”

Fuck.

“Ever since this thing with Willow-“

Oh God no.

“-and…and my other self-“

No no _no no ņo̧̘͓̟̥ ̨̤n̟̗͙̙̼͍̲ **o̻ ̷̯͖͉̦̲̰ǹ̹o̧͚͉**_

A hand touched his arm.

“Dipper, did you hear me?”

Dipper shook his head to clear the thoughts away, hair and hat flying around his head like a cloud.

“No, I’m sorry Henry. What did you ask?”

Henry blew out a breath. “Dipper, I’m pretty sure 99 percent of what Mabel reads us is complete bullshit but…” He waved a hand around his head, encompassing the antlers that Dipper and Willow saw all the time, odd twisting wood-bone that was currently covered in apple blossoms. “I don’t know what to expect.”

At Dipper’s blank look, Henry went on. “Is there anything I should…um, know?”

There was a circle of Hell lower than Mabel reading fanfiction to him and Henry and this was it. “About what?” Dipper managed to croak out.

Henry huffed out a sigh, clearly not happy about talking about any of this as well.

“Well, even though I think that ‘WoodAlc3905’ has not the slightest clue what they’re talking about when they mention Green Men… um… well.”

Dipper stared, and Henry’s ears turned bright cherry red.

“Well, the Green Men in English mythology are symbols of fertility and-“ Dipper didn’t think it was possible for Henry to blush even deeper but somehow the other man managed it. “Um, Mabel has an IUD and I um, got my, you know, got that tied but-“

Dipper welcomed death, and then wondered where that fucker went, because he was ready to die now.

“-and if Mabel got pregnant and decided to keep the baby I wouldn’t mind, but, um, we’re getting a little old to have little ones running around-“

Was there a Hell that went below Hell? Like Double Hell? Dipper was definitely in Double Hell now.

“-I mean I love our kids, I love them so much but we’re getting a little old to chase after a little one.” Henry paused. “Or little ones. And-“

He didn’t want to have this kind of conversation with Mabel, let alone with Henry, who blushed at Victoria’s Secret commercials.

“-so um. You… you know all about-“Henry waved a hand over himself, encompassing both the antlers and the ability to shift into an entity of pure vengeance. “- _this._ So can you um, help?”

Dipper honestly didn’t know a _damn_ thing about what he had turned Henry into but this _seemed_ like it wouldn’t be the case so-

“I think you all will be fine. No more babies. I _p͟r̥͓o̵̖m̧i̺̱͠s̥̺̫͇̹e̢͙̪̞̥̜._ ”

Henry blew out a sigh of relief.

“Oh _good_.”

Silence reigned for a minute. Outside, they could both hear the sounds of Hank lifting Gompers off the ground and Stan cackling.

“So,” Henry continued. “It won’t go, um, the other way around will it? I mean, my antlers _do_ bear fruit and at some point magic fails to obey the laws of physics and… and I have a feeling _Mabel_ wouldn’t mind but I would thank you very much and-“

At this, Dipper’s mind broke.


	174. Chapter 174

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dip: ok, I get the triplets beating me at Mario Kart, but Henry too?! D:

He remembered at the last second to not melt the controller into a pool of plastic on the floor but it had been close.

Next to him on the couch, Willow cackled.

“Dad for the win!” she crowed. The teenager looked at Dipper, eyes unfocused for a second. “You’re not going to go off and pout are you?”

Dipper ignored her and pointed a finger at Henry.

“H̘̲̼̳̬̠͜ͅo̩̦̯w̮̲͕̣ͅ?̗̗͙̦̦”

“Well I threw a banana at you and then-”

“Henry.” Dipper let out a frustrated growl and ignored the giggles coming from the peanut gallery. “I played Mario Kart every day for two years straight when I was-” human “younger. And it took you twenty minutes to figure out how to plug the system into the TV. How?”

“Well, it’s pretty easy as long as you pay attention, and really, it’s just like driving in Portland traffic-”

By this point there was literal steam pouring out of Dipper’s ears. “That’s not how that works.” Dipper hissed. With a pop he disappeared into the Mindscape where he was going to Not Pout thank you very much.

Willow, dangerously out of breath from laughing, leaned over to high five her dad.

“Thanks for the lessons Willow,” he said, a small smile on his face.

She wiped the tears from her eyes. “No worries; it was totally worth it.”


	175. Chapter 175

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TAU prompt - since it's a thing now, can we have something with Dipper and dresses?

“Can I open my eyes yet?”

Three voices giggled and tittered at him.

“Noooooo Uncle Dipper! We don’t got your dress ready yet!” Acacia cried.

“It’s going to match mine,” Hank added. “You’ll like it, it’s swishy and-“

“Hank! Don’t ruin the surprise!” Willow scolded.

A thought occurred to him as three sets of small sticky hands wrapped cloth around him, stuck him gently but not gently enough with pins, and pulled things on over his head.

“Stars, does Mom _know_ that the three of you are using stuff from her craft room.”

There was a silence that went on a little too long, and then Acacia said, uncertainty in her voice, “Yeees?”

Dipper shrugged. “Good enough for me.” He felt a hand take up his larger one in it, and acrid smelling liquid begin to be applied to his claws.

“Makeup too?”

“Uh-huh,” Hank said, as he put the brush onto another nail.

Twenty minutes later the ministrations had stopped.

Even though his own eyes were closed, he could feel the weighing glances of three second graders looking him up and down.

“Well?”

“You can open your eyes now, I guess,” Acacia said.

“Yeah, we wanna have the tea party now we’re hungry,” Hank added.

Dipper opened his eyes, and Willow immediately ran over to start pulling him to the little table they had set up in the middle of the room.

“Hey now, let me get a look first Little Fighter!” Dipper said laughingly.

Hank ran over and between him and Willow, they triplethandled Dipper over to the mirror that Mabel kept propped up in one corner of the room.

Dipper stared at his reflection.

The kids had somehow managed to wrap him in five separate bolts of fabric, patterns and colors clashing like mad. This wasn’t even including the tulle and tinsel they had dug out and draped over him like a Christmas tree. Acacia had gotten a hold of Mabel’s edible glitter and dumped it all over him, and if he was mortal, he’d have been poofing glitter for the next month. Hank had done his best to paint his nails, but still ended up getting polish over half of his fingers as well as the claw. As for his face, it was pretty obvious that Acacia and Willow had agreed to each do a half of his face. This meant one half of his face had purple eyeshadow and orange lipstick, while the other had eyeliner that went on his eyelid and onto his temple, and blush that was literally a big red circle.

Three excited yet slightly worried faces popped up in the mirror behind him.

“Do you like it Uncle Dipper?” Willow asked.

He turned to face them.

“Like it? I _love_ it!” He scooped up all three of them in his arms and began to cover them in kisses, smearing two different colors of lipstick over their faces, rejoicing in the squeals he got from them.

(The small time cult in Iowa that summoned him twenty minutes later were confused, to say the least. But if there was one nice thing about having the reputation that he did, it was watching highly befuddled men and women try and roll with the metaphorical punches.)


	176. Chapter 176

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tau prompt : the triplets in their first school play with camcorder wielding Mabel, embarrassed Henry who has to sit in the back because no one behind him can see the stage, and dipper who gives the play some 'real' special effects

**Three**

Honestly, this was starting to get ridiculous. Henry knew he was tall but he wasn’t _that_  tall.

And yet every seat he and Mabel and Stan had tried to take, he would hear a little ‘ahem’ behind him, or the rustling of a seat as the person he was in front of shuffled to see.

After the sixth attempt to sit down, and to prevent a complete meltdown from Stan, Henry excused himself to sit in the last row. If there was one thing about being tall, he thought to himself, is that there was never a bad seat in the house.

As he thought this, Multibear shuffled in, and sat down in front of him, completely blocking his view. 

**Two**

Stan was never one to diminish Mabel’s enthusiasm or crazy ideas but-

“Hey kiddo?”

Mabel looked up. “Yeah Stan?”

He put a hand behind his head nervously.

“I know you’re excited about this-”

“Grunkle Stan, I know without a doubt that this is going to be _the_  cutest _the_  bestest production of The Rainbow Fish ever.”

“Er, yeah, sure. But-”

He gestured to her lap, and to the professional quality movie camera that looked like Mabel stole it off a set. It was literally half her size, and Stan had no idea how she was going to lift it without a tripod.

“Don’t you think that’s a little…much?”

Mabel’s answer deafened Stan and half the theater in response.

**One**

Dipper grinned, hovering above the crowd. 

He wasn’t sure why the kids wanted there to be fire in a show that took place entirely underwater, or where Hank had heard about Cthulhu, but for his niblings (and for a week’s worth of their desserts) he was willing to do anything. 

Dipper frowned for a second. Did they tell anyone else about this? Then he shrugged. Oh well, a little chaos never hurt anyone or anything. 

The lights dimmed and the crowd quieted down. Dipper smiled.

Showtime. 


	177. Chapter 177

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I always imagine Henry and Dipper being total nerds together, so... Fic prompt: Dipper and Henry reading a book or talking about a book they both read and making theories or arguing about different things. It could be a mystery, a sci-fi, a historical fiction, or even a textbook.

“No, no, nͫ͝o̧ͤ̉!͆ͬ̀  That makes no sense Henry!”

Hank, who had come downstairs to get a soda before starting his homework, padded quietly to the doorway to the living room.

An easel with a large paper pad stood slightly askew in front of the tv, the splayed pages showing multiple crossed out venn diagrams and word trees. Dad was standing up straight for once, and would have towered over Uncle Dipper if it weren’t for the fact that Uncle Dipper’s wings were flapping so hard that they were buzzing. Around them in a large semi-circle were the corpses of dry erase markers and soda cans, and above all, stacks and stacks of-

Hank grinned, even as his Dad yelled back, “For the last time Dipper, _The Sibling Brothers_ is a complete and utter rip off of the Hardy Boys! Jenkins W. Jenkins even got in trouble for plagarism. Five times!”

“Prove it smart guy.”

Dad sputtered, and reached for one of the stacks. Hank went back into the kitchen.

It was always nice to see Dad and Uncle Dipper bonding, as Mom would say. 


	178. Chapter 178

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> prompt: dipper and lucy ann's shenanigans through the ages as immortal bros who died too young. bonus points if it involves dipper masquerading as lucy ann's caretaker despite the fact that she's like 4000 years older than him for things like getting into r rated movies or buying alcohol.

The diminuitive figure in a cape looked up as he approached. To any one else the figure looked like a little girl, her cape a remnant from a costume from Halloween last.

But Dipper Pines knew better. 

Lucy Ann perked up at the sight of him, but then her expression turned into a frown. 

“What the fuck dude?”

Dipper raised an eyebrow at her.

She waved a hand at him, ballcap and vest and cargo shorts. “You’re in your civvies.”

Dipper scowled, and shrugged off his backpack. “Well, I can’t exactly go in the liquor store looking like-” a flash of wings and fire, flame and fury “-myself.” He pulled out a large paper bag and Lucy Ann’s eyes, already glowing in the dark like a cat, grew brighter.

“ _Sweet.”_

He came up next to her and handed her the paper sack. She began to dig eagerly through it.

“Rum, vodka, more rum, that honey stuff I like. Fuck hot damn Al, you came through.” 

“We ̷h͞ad͡ a ͡dea͝l,” he tersely pointed out. He know she didn’t mean it like that. But the side of him that lived on deals, the side that felt the keenness of reputation and promises kept or broken, _that_  side considered her words an insult.

She bared her fangs at him in a grin, half apology, half not.

“Drink with me?” she asked.

“Here?” Here being the dumpster behind this piece of shit liquor store in-

“Ohio? What are you doing all the way out here?”

She say down and leaned against the dumpster, and despite the grating of the stench against his nose, Dipper did the same. 

He looked over at her. “They miss you, you know?”

Lucy Ann said nothing, only uncorked the larger of the rum bottles. She looked at him pointedly.

Dipper sighed, and then bit hard on his index finger, bringing shimmering gold blood to the surface as tooth broke skin. Lucy Ann proffered the bottle, and he held the cut over the opening, letting blood drip into the bottle and turn the rum cloudy. 

She nodded in thanks, and proceeded to chug half the bottle, finishing off with a spectacular burp. 

“Fuck I needed that. Thanks Alcor.” She looked dolefully at the bottle. “It’d be so much easier if I could use my own blood but _noooooo_.”

He looked at Lucy Ann, really looked at her. There were twigs and leaves in her little afro puffs, and dirt under her nails. Her cloak (the one Mabel had made her) was dirty and worn, though he noticed that every tear and rip was meticulously repaired. She smelt like old blood, like death and rot. 

She had the body of a five year old and needed him to buy alcohol for her and sneak her into her favorite movies and she was a thousand miles away from the home she had kept for almost a century.

He wanted to ask her.

He wanted to tell her, tell her that Linden and Hazel were worried sick, that Rowan and Myrtle had made noises about tracking her down.

He looked into Lucy Ann’s eyes, saw Vivi, saw Hank being lowered into the ground, saw the increasing amount of grey hairs on his nibling’s heads, on the heads of her godchildren.

He looked at her, opened his mouth, and asked “How did you figure out that blood trick.”

Lucy Ann blinked, killed the bottle, and said, “I’ll tell you over breakfast?”

“Do I have to do the blood thing with the syrup bottle?”

“Well I’m not going to fucking sit there and watch you enjoy pancakes without something else so yes, you will.”

Dipper smiled.

“It’s a deal.”


	179. Chapter 179

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Transcendence, think you could write about Mabel shearing the flock to make sweaters? And how the furballs like Erschie would respond?

She brandished a razor.

“Mabel no.”

From under her sweater, Mabel pulled out an…oh god, that _was_  an industrial sized razor how had she fit it under there-

“Seriously, no.”

Mabel frowned, and then pulled some large scissors out of the waistband of her skirt.

“Okay, if I said no to razors, what makes you think the scissors would change my mind?”

Mabel dropped all three to the ground and pouted. “Their wool is so soft and I’ve always wanted to try making my own yarn and _please_  pleasepleaseplease-”

Dipper held up his hands.

“Okay, okay, fine! I gotta ask them first though.”

Mabel nodded. “That’s fair.” She went to pick up the razor and Dipper shook his head.

“You don’t need that. They can will the wool off.”

“Oh my god really?!”

Dipper grinned.

She didn’t need to know that they did that by way of explosion. But hey, an hour of picking up wool from a three hundred yard radius around each of the Flock was worth it to have the wool, right?

(Mabel did not think so)


	180. Chapter 180

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is less an ask and more a prompt but: Trips, Stan, "let sleeping Grunkles lie"

Dipper ran clawed hands through his hair in frustration. He wasn’t sure what it was about Stan asleep in his easy chair that was so endlessly fascinating to the triplets, but he had had a hell of a time keeping them aw-

Dipper looked over, sighed, and blipped next to Stan, picking up Acacia, who had somehow escaped her play pen and was getting ready to shove a crayon up Stan’s nose.

“You’re fucking with me, aren’t you Pole Star?”

To confirm, Acacia giggled, and then burped in Dipper’s face. 


	181. Chapter 181

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Dipper subtly (or not so subtly) trying to nudge an r!Henry and and r!Mabel together. Are they actually compatible this time around? Who knows!

“He’s doing it again.”

A rustle of papers from the other end. “Seriously?”

Fiorenza nodded, even though Xavi wouldn’t see her doing so over their comm link. Absently she plucked a peach from one of her antlers and took a large bite out of it. As always, there was no stone, only the sweet flesh. 

“Yeah seriously, check your mailbox next time you’re up and I’ll bet you’ll have the same thing.”

Xavi popped his gum loudly. “Which is?”

Fiorenza sighed. “An all expenses paid to some fancy pants spa out near Pueblo Acoma.”

“How many times is the word ‘couple’ mentioned?”

She counted. “Seven.”

Xavi sighed. “How many times have we told him-”

“-that we love each other like siblings-”

“Also that we’d kill each other if we lived together?”

Fiorenza shuddered. “I love you but I don’t want glitter and sequins in orifices I didn’t know I had.”

Xavi chocked out a laugh. “I love you but you alphabetize everything in your fridge; who _does_  that Renza?”

Fiorenza looked at the brochure. “You know what we should do Xavi?”

“Uh, go on this trip anyway because it sounds sweet as fuck?”

She grinned. “It’s like you’ve known me for a thousand years. Let’s fucking do this.”

“Oh dude, you know what we should do too?”

“What?”

She heard rustling in the background as Xavi moved around. “I’m pulling out some swatches and designs now. We are going to have matching outfits this whole trip and we’re going to send so many pictures to Alcor.”

An evil grin spread across her face. “Xavier Ramirez that is _wicked_  you should absolutely do it.”

(Xavi was surprised when he gave Alcor a thank you scrapbook detailing their spa week, how unamused the demon was. Some people.)


	182. Chapter 182

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Are you still taking writing requests? Because here's one for TAU: Henry getting a reputation as himself (not the Woodsman) in relation to Alcor or Mizar the Gleeful. (Seriously, if Mabel is still doing that stuff, Henry is gonna get involved sometimes, even if it's just to bail them out, and then he would subsequently noticed somehow, right?)

Scholars knew about Alcor and Mizar of course, how could they not? There was the Woodsman, who still haunted the forests of the world. Gliese, the lost daughter, Wenda the Hunter, the Handyman- key figures all in the early days of the Alcoran Myth Cycle.

But there was another figure, one that remained damnably elusive. 

No one could agree on a name for the figured that lurked at the edges of the early days of Alcor on this earth. Some called him the Shadow and some the Sorrow. He was The One Who Walks Behind, the Shield, the Quiet One. Impossible to pin down but with _just_  enough evidence to be unable to deny this figure’s existence.

(A scholar in the California Federation in 2562 wrote an article about how the figure was actually a man named Henry Pines, but was justifiably laughed out of the field.)

He seemed to only have existed for a limited amount of time, making him most likely some kind of mortal. His was a supporting role, the only thing that the apocrypha seemed to agree on. Usually he only appeared when Mizar (and sometimes Alcor) was in trouble and couldn’t get free, a deus ex machina constantly saving Mizar from the brink of disaster. 

Some accounts painted him as a hapless human caught in Mizar’s snare, sad and tall and with a head full of fire. Some thought he was a simulacra, a golem created by Alcor to serve Mizar, at least until the birth of the Woodsman. He was vengeful and jealous, seeking to steal Mizar from Alcor. He was forever longing and yearning for Mizar. He was ripped from the flesh of the earth and forced into servitude. He was, he was, he was-

A scrap of flannel, a fingerprint, a few letters- “RypIn”- and the songs and stories of myth were all that remained of the figure. Yet scholars continued the search, looking for the substance behind the story-

—-

Henry sighed as his prints were taken. He wasn’t sure why the Deschutes County Jail needed his prints if he was only here to bail Mabel out, but it wasn’t worth making the fuss. 

He looked up as Mabel came bounding out, already fast friends with her guard. She ran up to him and jumped into his arms, wrapping her arms and legs around him.

“Henry!”

Damnit, he couldn’t help but smile. He pressed a kiss on the crown of her head.

“What brought you in this time?”

“Well, it started when I found out Pacifica’s cousin was keeping the brownies in his house as slaves- _slaves_  Henry!”

Together they left the police station and disappeared into the night. 


	183. Chapter 183

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> someone goes somewhere they shouldn’t

Dipper grabbed Acacia out of the entrance to the laundry chute, having only seen a small red butt wiggling into the chute barely in time. (And why on Earth Great Uncle Ford thought a laundry chute would be even necessary for one person living on their own had always escaped Dipper but that was not here nor there.)

His heart wasn’t real, didn’t exist, but it beat like a drum against his shell as he manhandled his wiggling niece out of the opening of the laundry chute. To think that she could have fallen three stories to the basement- his mind helpfully supplied every possible scenario that would have occurred had he not caught her in time and Dipper felt sick to his stomach.

“ You ͜k̕now ̧n̶ot̵ ͡t͟o̸ ̷go ͏in th͘er̴é ̡P͏o͏l̨ari͝s̸.”

In his hands, Acacia wiggled, tears springing to her eyes, her aura bruise fear yellow at the sound of his voice.

Dipper sighed, pushing the demon that had come to the surface with his fear down, and pulled her to him in a hug.

“You scared me Pole Star.”

She looked up at him, mouth agape (the better to see the two baby teeth that were loose in the back of her mouth.) 

“I can’t scare you, you’re Uncle Dipper!”

He wrapped his wings around them, the better to keep her safe (and away from that damn chute that they didn’t use and should really board up). 

“You can too.”

She giggled, and snuggled into his shirt.

“Cannot.”

“Can so.” He lifted her chin so she would look him in the eyes. “What scares me is you getting hurt. Like just now.”

“But I’m not hurt!” 

“But you could have been, Acacia. Remember when we showed the three of you where the chute ends?”

“Mmm-hmmm.”

Dipper shook his head. “This isn’t like the playground Little Figher. You land on concrete that fast you’re going to break your n- you’d get really hurt.”

“Really?”

“Really really. And that’s why you scared me so bad.”

Her voice was quieter now. “Oh.” He floated out of the room, and began to go down the stairs.

“I’m sorry Uncle Dipper. I won’t do it again.”

He squeezed her tight, until she gave a little squeak. “I’ll hold you to that promise.”

“Okayyyy.”

“You’re still in big trouble though.”

It was amazing how fast a kindergartner could go from happy to a complete pout.


	184. Chapter 184

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry nerds out over something to Mabel, Stan, or Dipper. Or all three. All three is good.

They were three hours into the cataloging that Stan had asked for Henry’s help with when the tall man came careening out of the other aisle brandishing a volume.

“I can’t believe you have this!”

Stan looked up, thinking it was someone else for a minute, but no, it was Henry alright. He had never heard that kind of enthusiasm, hell, never had heard his voice rise above a low tone before. The kid and Mabel had been going out for a few months now, but Henry was still shy around him. It had been a puzzle to Stan, that the man who had fearlessly stood up to him at their first meeting still acted like he’d faint if you said boo at him.

(He had an idea why that was now. He wished he didn’t.)

There was a book in Henry’s hands, and nothing about it struck Stan as particularly distinctive or special. It just looked like an oldish but not too old book, same as all the other books Stan had picked up over the years in his attempts to make sense of his brother’s work and this town.

Stan looked at the spine. “Johns’ _Hygh Demonologie?_ It’s nothing special kid; man was completely batshit and completely wrong about… everything.”

Henry snorted at him-snorted! Finally the kid was showing some backbone.

Henry smiled. “You’re not entirely wrong- especially now that I know Dipper, I can take apart Johns’ argument with little more than some floss and a toothpick.” He looked down at the tome in his hand.

“No, this is special because it’s a _second_  edition.”

“Uh, isn’t it the first edition that’s usually the expens- er, good one?”

“Yeah, most of the time you’re right about that Stan. But there was a mishap at the press when the second edition of this was printed and half the pages in here are upside down. They burned the whole lot and just went into third edition but a few escaped.”

There was now a tingling in Stan’s hands, and more importantly in his pockets. 

“So this thing is rare then eh?”

Henry was gently rifling through the pages, noting where the telltale upside down pages were. 

“Oh yeah. There’s only ever been three of these found; this would be number four. The last one of these that surfaced went at auction for-”

Henry blandly named a figure. Stan’s vision went white with spots, and he could only hear the rush of blood in his ears.

The other man looked at him with a smile on his face. “Isn’t this great?! You’re contributing to the history of Pre-Transcendence Magical works!”

“Er, yeah. Uh, listen, you find anything else like… like that?”

Henry nodded. “Oh yes. You’ve really built up quite a collection Stan. I thought I knew how big it was but-” He whistled. “It’s _big_.”

Stan leaned on his cane, needing the support.

“How about you show me what else you’ve found?”


	185. Chapter 185

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: write about a time when a serious conflict with a cult was solved (or worsened) with Mabel Juice.

He wasn’t sure when Mabel had started adding smile dip to her Mabel Juice. Probably after the kids had begun to crawl. Not even Mabel’s boundless energy could keep up with three babies on the move at once. 

Mabel Juice, he had discovered, affected him differently since his… transformation. Just a whiff of it was enough to make his synapses in his brain all fire at once, his heart race, his blood rush-

(He didn’t have any of that, not any more, but he felt it in his _soul_ -_

Since he had learned the hard way that just a sip of Mabel Juice would end with the house completely reorganized to harmonize with the 9th Dimension, inside out hamsters making a colony on the lawn, and leave Henry’s eyes twitching, he usually stayed away from his sister’s concoctions. 

But even a being of unlimitless energy and might like he had become became wore down from chasing after three colicky and teething toddlers for four hours straight. 

And the pitcher of Mabel Juice, with its googly eyes floating at the top and five plastic dinosaurs sitting at the bottom, was especially tempting considering the needy, demanding summons that was dragging his attention away from his Stars, the summons that had a tinge of blood and pain to them.

One sip, just one sip, and the world turned bright swirling rainbow prisms, the color of Mabel’s dreams, the color of a rip in the universe opening wide.

One sip and his blood boiled in his veins and steamed out of his pores, his hair burnt into ash, his insides melted and sloshing painfully within him.

One sip and he wasn’t Dipper, wasn’t Alcor, wasn’t anyone any more.

One sip and when he woke up his stomach was painfully full, the screaming souls inside intermingled with the remains of their former shells.

He looked around the room and winced. It was… messier than usual.

He looked at his hands.

They were completely spotless (a flash to him licking the blood off of his hands, sucking on his claws until even they were clean-)

He didn’t go home that night.

And he never touched Mabel Juice again.


	186. Chapter 186

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Alcor with a swordcane

“You need a prop kid.”

“What do you mean?”

Stan sighed as he sat down, leaning heavily on his trademark 8-Ball cane, having sprained his ankle chasing after that damn pig of Mabel’s yesterday. He looked at the demon sitting across the table from him, the demon with an earnest and worried face, that smelt of sulfur and unwashed teenage boy. 

The demon, gaining power and status by the day, making deals left and right.

His nephew, who through Mabel asked if Stan could teach him some tricks because ‘being a demon’ as it turned out only took you so far.

Maybe Stan should be teaching him all the things he had learned to con suckers over the years (well, _most_ , come one he wasn’t going to teach him _everything.)_ But this was Dipper. This was his kid. He couldn’t leave him… well, not exactly helpless, not any more.

But Dipper had a long time, far too long for Stan’s comfort, in front of him. And Stan wasn’t going to be around to watch out for him too much longer.

Stan tapped his fingers on the black surface of the ball. “Look kid, sometimes words can take you only so far. Sometimes you need a little extra distraction, something to keep the rubes busy while you’re fucking them over.”

Dipper waved a hand over himself, encompassing with the gesture everything from the fangs in his mouth, the claws on his hands, and the buttwings that he still stubbornly insisted on referring to as “not buttwings Mabel oh my god.”

“I don’t know Stan. I think I’m all the distraction I need.”

Stan grinned.

“Oh really Dipper?” and he held up the handkerchief that Dipper had taken to keeping in his breast pocket.

Dipper’s jaw dropped. Literally dropped, stretching from his face to the surface of the table. Stan leaned over a bit and pushed it back into place with the tip of his cane.

“Wait, what? H͖̦͚̘̹͔̝͢o̢͉̞̭w̴̰̪̼̪̜͓?͇̝̘̹ͅ!͈̭͜”

Stan waggled his cane and Dipper groaned.

“The prop.”

Stan nodded sagely.

“The prop.” He held his cane out a bit. “I personally like canes. They’re classy, go good with a suit.”

“Yes… a cane…. Um, Grunkle Stan?”

“Yeah?”

The look on Dipper’s face was the look of meeting his brother for the first time, the look he used to get around Wendy, the look when Mabel brought him onto their plane with a big hug and a candy bar.

“Can it be a sword cane? I’ve always wanted one.”


	187. Chapter 187

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Stan revisits Vegas with Goldie, Anniversary Time.

Acacia had taken one look at him and ran from the room, shrieking in terror.

Hank had somehow dragged out Mabel’s bat, and had attempted to hit at him as hard as he could before Henry had caught up to him.

Willow just looked at him with pursed lips and a look that was more at home on a ninety year old than a five year old, and shook her head at him. 

Dipper popped into existence, saw him, and popped right back out again.

Mabel at least hadn’t reacted in horror and disgust, but she wanted to bedazzle him from head to toe, which… wasn’t much better.

Stan buckled Goldie into the front seat, and then got in on the driver’s side, making sure his atlas was ready at hand, and that Mabel hadn’t replaced his driving beer with Mabel Juice.

Honestly.

Some people just had no taste. 


	188. Chapter 188

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bone chimes

There are signs, portents, omens, that herald his coming. 

It starts with the blades of grass, then works its way up to the flowers and vines, the bushes and shrubs, and finally up to even the largest and oldest of trees. All leaning, stretching, grasping in one direction. Roots trip you up, vines tangle around your legs, and your limbs are torn from the touch of a thousand tearing branches. The forest is caught in a gale in a hurricane but there is no wind that bends the plants, makes them turn and twist into new forms. Only his coming.

(You fall to the ground, a crack in your jaw as you bite down hard on your tongue, and the coppery taste of blood flooding your mouth. You get back up and keep running, and try not to notice how it feels like there’s dirt and worms crawling in your mouth as well.)

It’s a smell that fills your nose and mouth, a odor so thick it chokes you and leaves you coughing. It’s damp soil after the rain, the clean green smell of a creek, the torched firewood of a forest about to be reborn, ozone in the air after a crack of lighting. It’s all four elements in harmony, it’s the Earth celebrating the coming of its best beloved, it’s the smell of your doom. 

(You didn’t mean this, you didn’t mean this- but here in the forest, your lies are stripped away and your soul laid bare. He’s coming. Coming for you.)

It’s the sense of eyes on you. The deer, the foxes, the rabbits come into full view, the war between predator and prey momentarily forgotten.. Owls and robins, hawks and cardinals, all watch you as you go by, perched on the lowest branches of the trees, the better for you to see them. Worms emerge from the dirt and join the snakes that slither around your feet as you run. The forest is alive, the forest is alight with a multitude of eyes, and the fauna has become brazen in watching you and showing themselves. Their protector is coming soon, and there is no reason for them to fear.

There is a hush, the forest so teeming with life suddenly falling silent as the grave. The only sound is the rapid fire beat of your heart, the rasp of your breath in and out. No. No not quite. From behind you hear a tinkle, a jangle, a hundred little clangs. It reminds you of being little and running away from your mother to run your hands through the wind chimes at the store (-that’s how you chose this last one, that stray bubble of memory-) The peals of bells and chimes is music to your ears but-

But.

You turn around and see a forest of hands and feet. Hands and feet still fresh, the blood trailing down the skin of the dismembered limbs. Hands and feet that are somewhere in between, and you gag at the sudden stench of rot. Hands and feet that are only bone, each individual bone with it’s own string.

(The second to last thing you see is the blue fire of his eyes, the second to last sound you hear is the bone chimes of the Woodsman, the second to last thing you feel is your heart speeding up even faster and the touch of sweat on your skin-

a swish of an axe and internal narration suddenly becomes second to the pain)


	189. Chapter 189

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: An r!Henry puts themself in danger to protect an r!Bill. Remembering the events of Reincarnation Blues, Alcor fears this may become a trend.

Drowning.

Of all the ways to go, Lili couldn’t believe that they were _drowning_  of all things. They had always thought that they would go in a flash of fire, for some reason.

(nrub ot emoc sah emit ym-)

Admittedly, this was slightly less painful.

Really dumb though, to not only fall into a lake but one that was full of debris that had quickly tangled their limbs and trapped them so tantalizingly close to the surface.

Lili could feel their last gasp of air trying to claw its way out of their throat. 

Well, it had been a good run. Hopefully better luck next time around.

Lili forced their eyes open (no way they’d go out like a weenie eyes shut) and opened their mouth (nruter lliw i) and-

That was a hand in front of them as water surged into their mouth

That was a hand that was grabbing their hair-fucking _ow_ \- and pulling up and up and-

Lili broke the surface of the water, the hand dragging them inside of their boat. 

Everything went dark for awhile.

They woke up for a few minutes, puked all over their rescuers’ shoes, and passed out again. 

They woke up a second time, to find themselves not on a boat but in bed, with dry clothes on and a steaming cup of tea next to them. The urge to investigate was tempting, but Lili was feeling sleep more so they went back to sleep. 

(pu ekaw)

The third time Lili woke up they saw an angel. 

Personally, they really hated that sappy shit, which was why their last two partners had left them, but fuck them if the most beautiful woman they had ever saw was standing in front of them, so fuck it, they were seeing an angel.

They stared at each other for a minute. Lili drunk the sight of the woman in. Maybe other people (stoidi) wouldn’t have thought the woman was anyone special. She was average height, a little on the heavy side, with a sun dress covered in daisies on. She was missing a finger (Lili needed to hear that story now) had bright red lipstick on (find out what brand and bring it to her), and had the kindest, most beautiful eyes Lili had ever seen in their life (are you falling for this girl? kcuf).

And somehow, spiraling out of the woman’s afro, were a pair of large, wooden antlers, covered in grape vines that were laden with fruit.

The woman sat down next to her on the bed. “Um, hi.”

Lili blushed (they _never_  blushed what the hell?) and said, “I’m sorry I puked on your shoes.”

Their rescuer shrugged. “Eh, shoes can be washed.” Another pause. “What’s your name?”

“Lili.”

She smiled and oh shit, that was a really great smile, 10/10 would like to see again, excellent smile. 

“I’m Sandra. Mind telling me how on earth you fell in the lake?”

—-

From the Mindscape, Dipper observed this, mouth agape. Then he retreated to the Shack to bang his head against the wall for a year or five.

Of all the people who had to rescue Bill (TobyIanfriendson) it just had to be _them_. 

Dipper growled.

Henry was always too nice for their own good.


	190. Chapter 190

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Alcor meeting Slenderman.

Dipper sat on the ledge of the triplets’ window and stared at the creature attempting to get in. 

Part of him was beyond mere anger, beyond fury, and was something akin to the burning heat of the sun. Part of him wanted to rip and tear, bite and claw and obliterate the being who even dared to ̸͓̫̙͓͓͉ţ͔ͅo̴̯̭͇u̻̹͍͙ͅc҉̘̺̯̬̰h͚͙ ͖̬̦͕ _hi̱͈̮s̱͍͕͔̕ ̮͇̩̬̲͕̳_ s̴t̨̪̻͓̪̫a̕r͙̘̝s͚͉͔͚͈ _H̱̟ͅI̦͓͘S̳̮̺̼̗̬͚-_

However, the other part of him was content to sit mockingly on the windowstill instead.

The being in front of him was as much confused as he was angry at the denial of the children he sought.

“You know buddy,” Dipper said, examining the nails on one of his hands. “Tonight is _not_  your lucky night, and you know why?”

The dark slender man shook his head. 

Dipper pointed to a spot behind him.

“It’s not me dealing with you.”

The creature turned and promptly got a face full of bat. Blood and ichor spewed across the lawn.

Alcor grinned, teeth shining in the moonlight.

“It’s Mom. And she’s not happy.” More blood splattered and flew high enough to hit him even on the second story.

“Not one bit.” He licked his face off. Delicious. 


	191. Chapter 191

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Is there something stuck in my teeth?”

Stan was staring at his mouth, gaze intense even though his eyes were clouded with cataracts and hidden behind lenses a half inch thick.

Dipper was not only a demon, he was an _adult_ for Pete’s sake (he ignored the little voice that pointed out that age really didn’t matter to him anymore.) He was thirty five and he was far too old to be stared at like a misbehaving child.  

“Wh̴a͜t͝ įs it̀ ̸Stan?͜” Dipper asked and maybe he was being a little harsher than usual but it _had_ been a long day.

Stan had seen far too much shit for a weird echoey voice to faze him.

“Nothing kid.”

Dipper snorted.

“Bullshit. What’s got you staring at me like I’m the last cantaloupe at the store.”

“First off, it was worth getting thrown out of the store to bring that sucker home-“

“Stan, you literally elbowed the oldest woman in town in the face and then stomped on someone else’s toes.”

Stan ignored Dipper with long practice and went on.

“And secondly…. You got something in your teeth.”

Dipper froze. A tongue ran over his teeth and-

“Fuck.”

Stan nodded.

“You don’t think the kids noticed, do you?”

Stan laughed.

“Are you kidding me? When they’re that age they’re so self-absorbed they wouldn’t notice if a clown car crashed infront of them.”

Stan finished laughing, his countenance becoming more sober.

“Henry on the other hand, _will_ notice that you have meat in your teeth so I’d take care of that if I were you.”

What kind of meat the offending piece _was_ Stan carefully did not say.

Dipper blushed slightly.

“Thanks Grunkle Stan.”


	192. Chapter 192

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m going to jail.”

Henry pinched his nose. In the background, he could hear Stan getting after the kids, the sound of the TV, and the buzz of cicadas ringing out from the yard.

“This is the sixth time.”

On the other end of the phone, Mabel’s voice turned apologetic.

“I know Henry.”

“Was Dipper involved?”

Dipper popped into existence next to the fridge, summoned by the sound of his name like a particularly vain cat.

“Nope,” Dipper answered as he opened the fridge and pulled out the cheesecake Henry had made the night before last. “This one is all on Mabel.”

“Oh my god is that DippinDots? Tell him he better not eat all that cheesecake!”

Henry tried to remember how much he loved his wife.

“So what happened _this_ time?”


	193. Chapter 193

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Henry (or other non-Gravity Fallers) right after the Transcendence?

The redheaded boy wandered deeper and deeper into the woods, trusting his feet to take him as far away from his house as possible. His eye throbbed to the bone and he didn’t have to look down at his wrist to see a ring of bruises there.

He would have to go back eventually, Henry wasn’t an idiot. But for a few hours he could pretend that he could let his feet take him far away from here. 

Henry breathed a sigh of relief as he got to his favorite spot, his refuge. It was a redwood, an odd duck in a forest of mostly pine trees. There was a hole in the base of the trunk large enough for Henry to store his library books safely away from his parents, and the ground around the tree was covered in buttery soft grass. Henry leaned his head against the trunk and smiled, letting his hair tangle up in the bark. 

He had only been there for a moment when….something happened. There was no noise, no sound. No explosions in the sky or riot of color, no tornado or rain of blood or any of the signs that Mom’s church had taught him would herald the end of days. But he felt the bottom of his stomach drop out, the hair raise on the back of his neck, and he broke out in goosebumps from head to toe. From one second to the next, everything had changed.

“Hello little brother.”

Henry looked around but there was no one there.

“Hello?”

The voice chuckled. “I am behind you little brother.”

Henry turned around, pushing his glasses up his nose. The only thing behind him was his tree. But-

“It is good to meet you face to face young one.”

Among the books stashed in the tree was a copy of _The Two Towers._  “Are you an ent?” Henry asked.

 _“_ An ent? I have not heard of such things.” The tree paused. “But it’s as good a name as any. You may call me Seqoui.”

Maybe he should have been shocked or scared. Maybe he should be denying that any of this was true, or asking a million questions about who and what Seqoui was exactly. But it felt right, felt good and true to talk to Seqoui, felt like he was talking to Ms. Morecombe. 

Instead, Henry asked, “Little brother?”

Seqoui chuckled.

“Yours is a soul beloved by the Mother, and there is a seed deep within you that one day may grow and bloom into something bigger than yourself. We are brothers, if not in body, then in spirit.”

“I’m…. not sure what all that means,” Henry said shyly, looking down at the grass and blushing.

Seqoui laughed again softly. 

“That is okay little one. You will understand in time.” Seqoui sighed happily, the sound rumbling the ground around Henry and shaking him to his bones. “It feels good to speak to you. It has been a very _very_  long time since I have been able to talk so freely.”

A thought occurred to Henry.

“Oh! Oh Mr. Seqoui I’m so sorry but I left some books in…in…in um, you and-”

“No worries little brother.” Seqoui’s voice turned wry. “Just keep the blades away from me and we will be fine.”

“Okay.” Henry dug into the hole at the base of Seqoui’s trunk and fished out _The Two Towers._

 _“_ Ah. A book. I have not seen the like in quite a while.”

“Would you like me to read to you Seqoui?”

“I would love that. It has been far too long since I have experienced something new.”

Henry smiled, and opened the book. He read until his voice gave out, croaked until the sun had almost gone down and the air had grown chill.

He closed the book with great reluctance. He wanted to stay but Henry knew what would happen to him if he didn’t get home before nightfall. 

“I have to go, I’m sorry,” Henry apologized as he tucked the book back into Seqoui. As he got up, he placed his hands against Seqoui’s trunk for support. He felt the tree pulse with life under his hands, alive in a way he had never been able to sense before. 

“Will… will I be able to talk to you again?” Was this only a dream, a figment of his imagination, a one time deal only?

“Of course my little brother. I have been here and will continue to be here for a very long time.” Seqoui paused. “And I have a feeling that mine will not be the only voice you hear for much longer.”

Henry threw his arms around Seqoui and hugged the ent, ignoring his father’s voice in his head. 

“I’ll see you again! I’ll bring books and maybe some new water and-”

“Yes yes little brother, now go before you get in trouble.”

Their friendship lasted a month, two, three while the world around Henry changed and his mother’s mood became more volatile, his father more vicious, both of them scared to the bone of the changes occurring around them. 

One, two, three months, and then a day when Henry came to his clearing only to find a ragged trunk where Seqoui once stood. 

One two three months and Henry laid prostrate across the remains of his friend, sobbing his heart out, shaking with sorrow and fury.

One two three months of memories and lessons and a horrible, terrible anger that Henry had never felt before as he listened to his dad brag at dinner about the “talking freak tree” that he had personally chopped down with great pleasure.

(A horrible terrible anger that felt like he would burn up, burn his soul away in its fury, felt something almost begin to unfurl in him and-)

Four months and a new kitchen table and chairs made by Dad from some of the lumber from the redwood tree that he had taken as part of his payment and as Henry sat down in the back of his mind he heard “Hello again little brother,” and things were wrong, still very wrong, but he had learned to take comfort and friendship where he could.

(He had stolen a chair the night he left home, and when he sat down the day after he saved Willow, a small voice said “At last.”)


	194. Chapter 194

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the TAU prompts: Henry introducing the triplets to his former teacher

Ms. Morecombe looked up from her work on her desk, interrupted by the ringing of her desk phone.

She picked it up. “Friends In Need, Director Morecombe speaking.”

“Hey Jessica! You got visitors; friendly ones. I think you’ll wanna see them.”

Ms. Morecombe smiled. Her secretary Heather was one of the first people that her program had helped, back when it was just her in the spare bedroom of her office.

The smile faded from her face as she looked at the papers spread across her desk. Even now, with case workers and cops, lawyers and judges, volunteers all, working towards her cause- She blew out a sigh. It wasn’t enough, never would be enough.

She thought of the red headed little boy that had inspired her to quit her job and found Friends in Need, inspired her to reach out to children that would otherwise have fallen through the cracks of the system. Thought of small hands that had treated the books with as much care as they could muster, a burning spark of a mind and eyes that were constantly sunken under deep bruises. She had failed him, and as he left her care, transferred to another elementary school by his parents, she had sworn to never fail another child like Henry Corduroy again.

“Ms. Morecombe?”

She shook herself clear of her thoughts. “Please send them in Jessica.”

The door open and three teenagers came in, clearly all related; triplets if she had to guess. They were followed a second later by a ridiculously tall man with (antlers? No that was silly) an odd shadow and flaming red hair and-

Her jaw dropped.

She struggled to say something, anything, but the words died in her throat, relief and amazement choking her.

Henry Corduroy smiled, the same shy sweet smile she remembered, and gave a little wave.

“Hello Ms. Morecombe.”


	195. Chapter 195

Henry turned the corner and sighed again.

Nothing.

He was beginning to suspect that Pacifica had given him the most confusing and befuddling directions to and from the bathroom on purpose. On second thought, he probably should have realized that when she insisted that he had to take a different way back to the dining room from the bathroom. 

He smiled in spite of the situation. It was clear to him that everyone in the dining room, from Candy and Grenda who he had only met last week, to Mr. McGucket who had discussed at great length the time he performed an autopsy in college, to Pacifica with a set of four rings that he just knew were cleverly disguised brass knuckles-all of them loved Mabel and didn’t want to see her hurt. And if that meant he had to take a little hazing and suspicion until they trusted him well. It had only been three weeks since they started going out but he could say with confidence it was worth it. 

(lie. It was worth it after the first time they went out, the first time they met-)

His stomach rumbled as he began yet another ridiculously ornate and ostentatiously decorated hallway. That being said, he hoped Mabel sent out a rescue party soon. 

Yet another corner turned and suddenly there was a man in the hallway.

Guessing from the axe wedged neatly in his skull Henry was going to guess that the man was a ghost. 

A second later he realized the blue flame beard should have been a giveaway too. Perhaps he had been spending too much time around Dipper. 

Henry scratched the back of his head awkwardly. What did one say when meeting a ghost? 

“Um. Hi?” 

Ghostly blue ribs and a tibia were exposed to the air, the flesh around the edges rotted and worn. Arms once mighty and powerful were now covered in mottled skin and mold. One eye was gone and the other looked more akin to a cue ball rather than any organ Henry had seen. The man was big and burly and gave off the sense of a terrible, implacable will. For some reason he reminded Henry an awful lot of his Grandpa Arnold, a man he had only met a few times before his passing. 

The ghost continued to float in front of him, silent, waiting. 

“Is there a reason that you have an axe in your head and in your hand?” 

The beard flamed out longer and hotter but Henry went on. “I don’t mean to offend you sir, but it just seems a little redundant because you could just use the one cleaved in your head.” 

 Still nothing. 

Henry shrugged. “Just a suggestion.” 

He waited another second but there was still no movement, no words from the ghost. Well. So much for that. 

“I’m going to go now, it was nice meeting you.” He began to walk forward, intending to walk around the ghost but- 

A deep booming voice rang out. “Wait.” It was a voice that reverberated throughout his bones, his blood, and Henry froze in place. 

The ghost began to circle around him, nostrils flaring almost as if he was sniffing Henry. 

“What’s your name boy?”

(Unbidden in his head his father’s voice barking out “You’re a shame to our name boy-”) 

“Henry. Henry Corduroy.“ 

The ghost nodded. "Thought you were one of my get." 

Well. That was unexpected.

"Excuse me- what?" 

A flash of red hair and the weight of a child in his hands, of a face and back worn down from work but still quick to smile, a bow tie in a beard- 

(-mud in his lungs and the drip of blood and something grey and pink and squishy down his face before the dark took him-) 

-and once again the ghost stood before him. Henry was shaking from the rush of whatever that was (you know what that was Henry Corduroy-) but the ghost went on as if nothing had happened.

“There’s been Corduroys in these parts since my brothers and I followed President Trembly out here.” The head of his mighty axe fell to the ground with a large thunk, and the ghost leaned against the handle, sniffing the air once again like a bloodhound. “Seems like you’re one of mine, and not Teddy or Al’s.”

When Mabel had told him they were going to dinner at an old friend’s house, he wasn’t expecting that the house would be a manor, or said old friends would be an ex-heiress and an inventor. And he  _certainly_  wasn’t expecting to meet a long dead ancestor.

The ghost fished a toothpick out of the back pocket of his overalls and began to chew on it. “So what brings you in here boy? No room for our kind here.”

Henry raised an eyebrow at that but decided to ignore it for now. “My girlfriend wanted me to meet the people that live here, Fiddleford McGucket and Pacifica Northwest-”

At the word “Northwest”, the temperature dropped down forty or fifty degrees, causing the mirrors and glass in the hall to crack with the sudden change. Without any perceptible change on the ghost’s part, Henry was suddenly, viscerally aware that he was looking at a dead man. No, more than a dead man; a man kept from moving on, a man hanging on to this plane through the power of his will, his rage. 

“Northwest!” the ghost roared, and the rafters rattled, what was left of the windowpanes rattled, and his teeth rattled. 

“You…Take it you know Pacifica then?” Henry managed to gasp out. 

The ghost pointed a sausage like finger (a finger that was all too like the one his father had pointed at him time and time again and this was  _really_  not the time-) at Henry.

“Her blood has wronged ours! For generations the Northwests have made a mockery of our family! They have used us! Tricked us! BETRAYED US!”

At that last phrase, the ghost roared, and the hallway was engulfed for a second in the blue fire of his beard. It only tickled Henry’s skin but he knew somehow that it could burn him to cinders if the ghost so desired. 

The fire died down and as it did Henry saw the ghost offering him his axe. It was massive, practically half Henry’s size, and Henry wasn’t exactly short.

“Take it boy. Take vengeance on the Northwest clan. Take vengeance for those who have wronged us and ours.”

His stomach dropped and sweat broke out all over him.

“No. Absolutely not.”

The fire of the ghost’s beard died away, shriveled up until it was only an inch out from his face. “What did you just say boy?”

Henry crossed his arms. “I don’t know what Pacifica’s family did to piss you off however long ago and I don’t know what they did in the time between then and now. But I’ve met Pacifica. And more important, I know what she’s done for my girlfriend and her family.”

The beard blazed back again. “She’s deceived you boy! Pulled the wool over your eyes! You’ve been had!”

(“Oh Henry, you don’t know what you’re talking about, you don’t really feel that way, now go apologize to your father-“)

Henry shook his head. “The worst thing Pacifica Northwest has done to me was show me her rings and convince me to try caviar. That’s it.”

One moment they were feet apart the next only an inch of air was between them. The ghost’s breath smelt of rot and decay, and Henry could feel the weight of time rolling off the ghost, pressing him down into the floor.

“Kill the girl-“

The little voice inside of him that talked back, that sassed, that got his ass kicked often rose up and said, “Well, actually, Pacifica is a woman now.”

“You shame me-“

(“For shame Henry John Corduroy! Remember the Lord says to honor thy father-“)

“You’re an embarrassment-“

(-a flash of being four and scared of the dark, of going to ask Dad to look under the bed for monsters and having him tan your hide for embarrassing him in front of all his work buddies at the table-)

“You’re weak. You’re pathetic. You are _nothing_.”

(“You’re weak! You disgust me!” His father shook his head and Henry tried his best not to swallow the tooth his father had just knocked out. “You’re a pathetic piece of nothing. Should’ve never been born-“)

The words washed over him. They hurt. He still stood there, unmoving, hands firmly at his side.

The ghost glared at him for another minute and then snorted.

“Fine. If you aren’t man enough to finish the job then I’ll do it myself.”

He went to walk through Henry and then suddenly shot back, as if pushed away by something or someone. The ghost roared once again, and ran at Henry. Henry flinched but remained standing, remained blocking the hallway. The ghost once again approached him, this time beginning to phase through him and Christ it felt like every cell in his body was shriveling up his heart had stopped his lungs collapsed-

And the ghost was flung back twice as hard this time.

“HOW?!”

Henry wasn’t quite sure either but he wasn’t going to lose this opportunity.

“I’m not going to let you hurt my friend.” Well. Really she was more of an acquaintance at this point but now was not the time to quibble with semantics.

The ghost raised his axe up and up until it reached over his head.

“Boy, I’ll cut you down like a tree if you don’t get out of the way.”

His legs were shaking and all he could think about was Mabel’s warm brown eyes, the sound of her laugh, the whisper in his ear that she had something cute and pink to show him tonight under her sweater…

But the little voice inside of him that had been with him for as long as he could remember, the little voice that was there when he got a job at a restaurant to start saving money for his escape, the voice that was there when his father’s nose broke with a satisfying crunch under his fist… the little voice simply said “No.”

The axe fell and the blade embedded itself in the floor at Henry’s feet.

Henry looked at it, and then looked at the ghost, who had begun to laugh in big pealing booms.

“Um. What?”

The ghost reached over and clapped his shoulder, or as best as a ghost could.

“Good show son! Thought you were made of the right stuff!”

“Was… was this a test?” The part of him that was still convinced that he was facing his imminent death felt compelled to add, “Are you _serious?_ ”

The ghost’s laughter died down and he wiped a tear away. “I’m sorry son, that were right mean of me, I admit-“

“So… so there’s no centuries long vendetta between our familes.”

“Oh there was one-“ the room darkened, a chill danced up Henry’s spine “-but our girl fixed things, made them right. She did good too.” He eyed Henry. “In the same circumstances too, I imagine.” The ghost leaned once again on the handle of his axe. “Thought I was ready to go but that girl needed some looking after for a little while longer, so I stayed. But now-“

The ghost smiled, and then sniffed. He dug a hanky out of the fire of his beard, honked, and went on. “She’s grown. She’ll be good. All I have left to do before I go on is pass this axe of mine on. A Corduroy brave and true, good and strong-“

A thought occurred to Henry. “Have you thought about my cousin Wendy? She’s everything you’ve described and more-“

The ghost shook his head. “No. I’ve met the little warrior before, had a good arm wrassle with her- she beat me y’know? Beat me three times! Helluva woman! But no. She’s good. She’s got what she needs already. You however-“

With an effortless yank the ghost pulled the axe out of the floor and offered it to Henry.

“You on the other hand are going to need this one day.” The ghost pulled a face. “Maybe. It’s hard to tell but-“ He tapped Henry’s chest with the butt of the axe handle.

“There’s a mighty big seed in there waiting to grow. And an even bigger heart waiting to take care of it.”

Henry was at this point completely lost.

“I… I’m not… I’m not really-“

The lumberjack sighed. “Whatever you’re going to say, it’s a load of horse shit that ain’t true so just shut up and take the damn axe okay.” A pause. “No matter what, it’ll always be good for cuttin’ firewood.”

Henry’s hands moved of their own volition and took the axe. It felt… remarkably like a regular axe.

The ghost was already dissolving before his eyes, flesh then bone then light. “Goodbye blood of my blood. Fare thee well, Woodsman-“

With that he was gone. And so was his axe, leaving not a trace on his hands.

A thumping behind him, and Henry turned to see Mabel and an embarrassed looking Pacifica behind him.

“There you are Henbone!” Mabel yelled, and launched herself in his arms.

“We’ve been looking for you,” Pacifica said, quieter.

He smiled at the blonde woman. “No worries. Just got a bit lost, is all.” He winked at her, and Pacifica blushed.

He would tell them about what happened another time. But for now, dinner, and friends awaited.

(Years later, when he felt his flesh tear and twist into something new, when the little voice inside turned into a roar, before he saved his daughter Henry looked down at what used to be his hand and noticed that the ghost’s axe was there, growing into his arm.

It had been there, waiting, all along.)

 


	196. Chapter 196

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> for the drabble ask meme: Friends with Tax Benefits 53  
> 53\. “Who crawls through someone’s window at 4am to go for ice cream?!”

Henry stared at Dipper who stared unabashedly back.

“What?”

Henry sighed. “You know what.”

They both looked at Hank, who was sitting in the living room, dwarfed by the couch and the massive tub of ice cream Dipper had crawled into Henry’s bedroom with at 4 am.

“His fever broke! He deserved some ice cream.”

“Yes, I agree there. I just am unsure as to why the window as opposed to the door. Or teleporting, which _is_  a thing you can do.”

Dipper shoved and Henry pinched his nose. What would have Mabel said? Would she have laughed? Would she have been shoving Dipper through the window? 

For the millionth time, it felt like his heart was being torn in two. Why wasn’t she here with them? 

Dipper’s face had fallen. “I won’t do tha-”

Henry shook his head. “No.”

“No?”

“It’s fine, I promise, just… a surprise. Though maybe-”

“Yeah?”

“Wait until my alarm goes off next time at least?”


	197. Chapter 197

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 58\. “I’d die for you. Of course, I’d haunt you in the afterlife but really, it’s the thought that counts.” Mabel Pines/Henry Pines

He felt the blood drain from his face as she said that.

“I’m… I’m not worth-” Words died in his throat.

“I don’t want that,” Henry finally managed to get out. She raised her head from his bare chest, where she had been tracing out hearts and stars and, knowing his girlfriend, probably penises. 

“I mean it though,” she said, and there was no special inflection or plea or emotion in her voice. It was simply a statement of fact. She flomped her head back on his chest. “I’m sorry to be a downer mcdownington, but-”

She huffed out a breath, sending pieces of hair flying out of her face and tickling his skin where they landed. “Me and Dipper live dangerous lives and if you’re going to stay-”

“I’m staying.”

“-then your life may get dangerous too. And just-” A hand snaked up and began to stroke his hair. “I love you. I got you into all of this. My responsibility.”

He tangled his hands in her hair as well, strands of hair flowing in between his fingers.

“None of this um, whatever this is, is ‘on’ you. The only person you’re responsible for is yourself. I’m good, I promise.” Henry took a breath. “I would rather you live for me than die for me. Honest.”

“Mmmmm.” It wasn’t a no. It wasn’t a yes. They’d work on that.

 He was here to stay after all.


	198. Chapter 198

what if

what if it’s two, three years since the Stans have left and Soos loves being a business man, loves running a store, being his own boss but. But he misses fixing things, misses helping show people how to fix things. 

and Melody gently suggests that there’s nothing wrong with wanting a change.

what if 

sailing around the world on a boat with Ford is great, it’s fucking great, but also Stan surprises himself because he… he misses his home. He would have never called Gravity Falls his home before he left-

(don’t let him kid you Gravity Falls had long been his home. Let us say instead that he did not realize it until he left)

-but fuck if he didn’t miss his home, didn’t miss the Shack and the cold sea air makes his bones ache something fierce and he’s not ready to give up sailing with Ford yet, meeting babes and looking for gold and fighting monsters but-

(a call from Soos, two calls, five, and trying to reassure the younger man that no, he’s not mad, he doesn’t mind, asking what he had in mind-)

what if

Ford drops Stan off in Portland and Melody picks him up and they spend the car trip down to Gravity Falls telling dirty jokes and tall tales and the next day Stan watches and Does Not Cry as Soos and Melody cut the ribbon on the hardware store next to Big Gunz, definitely Isn’t Crying as Soos gives him a lifetime discount card

(he wanted to give him a lifetime free stuff card, but Melody pointed out that that went against everything Stan had taught him. This is true, Soos nods, and declines to mention to either of them that the card discounts everything to a buck)

what if

Stan moves back into the Shack, just for the winter, keep his hand in the game because Christ he’s missed conning suckers out of their cash, then it’s back to sea with Ford and

(the phone rings. 

“Stan…can… can we come over?”

sure of course

“Can… can we come over forever?” 

there’s crying in the background, a Presence that beats on the air and makes itself known even over the phone.)

He doesn’t return to the ocean that spring. 


	199. Chapter 199

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Transcendence, more stuff about Mabel + Dipper doing college?

“I didn’t know they printed out the course catalogs anymore.”

Mabel, plopped on the floor having some well deserved tummy time, only nodded. “Mm-hmm.” She flipped to the next page.

Dipper floating in the air crosslegged above her, snorted. “It’s so wasteful. Don’t they know like, 87.469% of people throw them away without even looking at them?”

At that Mabel rolled over on her back and looked up at her twin. “You pulled that number out of your butt.”

Dipper grinned and tapped his temple with a clawed finger. “Nope. I know l̝̖̠̣̬o̺͚͚t̘̤̤ͅs̫̫ ̙̫̮̦̻̣ọ̪͝f̱̖̭̱̝͔͘ ͈̼̠̭̣͘ͅt̝̱̮̪͙̻͞ḥ̼͍i̛͎̺̜̘̹-”

“Lots of things, complete knowledge, unlimited rice pudding, yeah yeah yeah I know.” But she was grinning as she said it.

Mabel rolled over and plopped back onto her stomach. “And besides, that means twelve and change percent of people still look at it and that includes me, so there.” 

Dipper floated closer, to peer over her shoulder. “I thought you picked your classes for the semester already. Photography I and that business course.”

“I dropped Photography and I’m looking for something to fill it.”

Dipper’s jaw dropped. It almost hit the floor until he remembered that Mabel would stuff crayons and carpet lint in it until he ‘remembered to people’ again and he picked it back up.

“But you were so excited for photography! You and Soos were going to go into Bend to get a manual camera tomorrow!”

Mabel sighed. “I know but-” Her colors swirled from bright bubblegum pink, to lavender violet and finally deep, dark blue. “But it’s not fair.”

“What?”

She looked at him, determination on her face despite the roiling of her aura. “It’s not fair. College was supposed to be your big thing, not mine, and you can’t go, and…and I’m not even going to _real_  college only community college and I know you and Stan say that doesn’t matter but I know it does to you and you would have gone to Harvard or something and this can’t make up for it but you should have a class and-”

Her rambling dried up in her throat, and she looked down at the page again.

“It’s not fair,” she finished quietly.

Inside there was a boy, on the cusp of teenhood, who died at twelve, screaming that it wasn’t fair. Inside there was fury and rage and a scream that once unleashed would keep on going because he had _died_  his life was _over_  and it ẁ͉̞̺̪̮a͇̦̝̖͍s̼̮͈͎n̛̘̬̖͈̫̗̩'͖͓͈͔̣͉t̠̦̥̕ ̫̟͚͇̫͓f͙̼͇̪͕ͅa͞i̜̮̞̰̯͟r̜̯͡-

He looked at Mabel.

Looked at the twin who stood by him for three years while everyone at their school drew further and further away from her. The sister who never denied him. The sister who threw away any chance at a normal life to stay at his side. The sister who had been the one to make the call to Stan, not him, even though for once he had been solid-

Mabel, who had given up so much and expected nothing in return, who gave and gave and gave and what if she woke up one day and there was nothing left of her at all-

It wasn’t fair. 

It wasn’t fair to her.

“I have all the time in the world to learn any thing I want. I don’t need college.” He paused. “You know what I _do_  need?”

Mabel sniffed. “What?”

“Really pretentious black and white photos of dumb stuff taken by my sister.”

Mabel burst out into a big, watery grin. 

She held out a fist to bump. “I promise to take only the most foofy and up its own butt pictures of stones and Grunkle Stan sleeping.”

“Excellent.”


	200. Chapter 200

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's the most destructive (accidentally, deliberately, or "accidentally") anniversary celebration Mabel has ever created? Bonus points if dipper had next to nothing to do with it

Their 27th Anniversary, aka the year 

  * Mabel drove Acacia’s motorcycle
  * The one with the sidecar
  * also Mabel’s first time driving a motorcycle



There was

  * multiple broken windows
  * three buildings with new holes in them 
  * a fruit stand that became a comically smashed fruit stand
  * hair being lit on fire at one point
  * one of McGucket’s murderbots being released from its prison by said hole in building
  * actually two
  * then there was a super sweet mecha battle in downtown Gravity Falls



Also

  * Henry was in the side car
  * That was the first and last time Henry will ever ride a motorcycle
  * It is only the first of many for Mabel
  * Everyone, however, forces her to get her _license_  before she gets on a bike again. 




	201. Chapter 201

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What animals have the kids brought home in hopes of keeping? How many of Henry's stray cat friends followed him over from Manly Dan's place? (How many of those cats decided to 'make friends' with Dipper?)

The kids have brought home, over the years

  * a raccoon
  * an opossum
  * a momma opossum and her babies
  * Louis the Gnome
  * minnows they put in an empty milk jug for that purpose
  * garden snakes
  * a bear cub
  * Andrew, Louis’ husband
  * a… thing with more eyes, tentacles, and orifices than Henry ever needed to see
  * lots of sticks and rocks. Sticks and rocks are cool.
  * a baby alligator. Also the day Mabel and Henry found out there was a small alligator population in Lake Gravity Falls (damn exotic pet market)
  * More baby birds than you can possibly count
  * Dipper (he was stoned off his gourd at the time and Mabel sent them to fetch)




	202. Chapter 202

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> somebitofeverything: How do Mabel and Henry get along with Lucy Ann? And Hank’s sisters?

They all love her, which is nice for Lucy Ann since it’s been…. a very long time since she’s had a whole family dote on her. 

Henry does his best to resist asking history questions… at least, until Hank lets him known that if there’s one thing Lucy Ann loves doing, it’s humblebragging (or tbh, just plain bragging) and since she _likes_  Henry, it takes very little or nothing at all to get her started about the time she partied in Cana with this cool guy named Josh, or punching a hole in the Berlin Wall or-

Acacia likes trouble. Lucy Ann likes trouble. Hank tries not to leave them alone together after that time with the whale, five cans of spray paint, and a police chase.

Willow finds Lucy Ann’s company very restful, her aura in Willow’s Sight soothing shades of grey. And there are things about the Sight, about her empathy, that Lucy Ann knows about from 5000 years of knocking around on the Earth that no one, not even Dipper, knows about.

Mabel makes Lucy Ann bedazzled and crocheted caps, experiments with putting blood in soup, in smoothies, in Mabel Juice and maybe she mothers her a bit which at her age is of course beyond ridiculous but…

It’s nice.

And she’s not going to complain.


	203. Chapter 203

“You’re being an idiot.”

Alcor’s ears flicked back and his hair puffed up a bit like an angry cat, so Mira knew that she had scored a point.

“It’s a legitimate concern,” he pointed out, sounding like he had a stick in his butt.

“No, a legitimate concern is her having my nose. That’s what I’m worried about.”

He looked at her face. “There’s nothing wrong with your nose.”

Mira frowned. “It’s massive. It’s so massive that other big noses see it and go "Stars that’s a big nose.’”

“I just want to do right by her. I don’t want to make the same mistake with her-”

“-that you did, I know, I know, you’ve said that like once a week for the last six months.” He still looked dejected and mopey so she pulled him down from where he had been hovering in the air and onto the couch.“

"I trust you. And I trust that an old fart like you can learn from their mistakes. When you meet her you’ll be meeting someone wonderful and new, just like me and Ian.” She shoved the brush into a gloved hand.

“And if you’re going to stick around and nope and pout, the least you can do is get my toe nails for me, since I can’t reach.”

–

The triplets (his Stars, his anchors, his kids) had been, when he thought back on it, almost ridiculously perfect as babies. They rarely cried longer than a few minutes and were easy to calm down. They were sleeping through the night at eight weeks and almost always kept their food down.

It was to make up, Mabel always said, for having to pop the out all in one go.

Lydia Victoria Beale was different.

Lydia had colic, “worse case I’ve seen in my career!” the pediatrician had enthused to an unamused and sleepless Mira and Ian. It was a running contest between him and Ian as to who could get her to go to sleep first, but they both really knew it was nothing they did and everything to do with Lydia exhausting herself from sobbing.

Lydia threw up almost everything she ate, and if it wasn’t for Dipper’s intervention neither Ian or Mira would have had an unstained shirt left in their closet. She changed her sleep schedule on a whim, one week sleeping through the night the next only sleeping from 10-2 in the middle of the day. She wiggled out of her onesies, peed on one of them weekly and refused to let anyone but them hold her (much to the dismay of Ian and Mira’s parents.)

She was her own little person with a stubborn personality from day one and Dipper loved her. It felt like a victory to get her to sleep or to get food down and Dipper loved her. She gave Ian his first grey hairs and he noticed they had stopped talking about having more than one kid. She had the sweetest smile, laughed far easier than any baby he had known and he loved her.

She was so… so her, so Lydia, someone new and wonderful, and it was impossible to compare her to anyone else.

(He was worried, when Mira gave him a shirt that read “World’s Okayest Uncle,” that it would bring up too many memories, far too many for a little girl to be weighed down by.

The shirt was a little too baggy and got puked on eight or nine times and it was perfect.)


	204. Chapter 204

“It’s June 17th.”

Henry looked up from the TV and over to Stan, who was sitting next to him on the couch.

“Uh, yeah? It is?”

Stan snorted.

“Nothing you want to tell us about tomorrow?” A pause. “Nothing important happening soon?”

Henry shrugged. “Not really?”

Stan sighed, gave up, and turned the volume on the TV down.

“For fuck’s sake kid, were you going to tell anyone tomorrow was your birthday?

—

Growing up, he was aware that birthdays were things that happened to other people, but they were non-events in his household.

No. That wasn’t entirely correct.

There was the year he turned nine and his mom had given him a two hour lecture about sin and nocturnal emissions and lust and, wait for it, more sin. He had gone to that bed that night simultaneously confused, ashamed, and unsure if anything he did with his hands asleep was ever going to be okay again.  

Or when he turned fourteen and his dad told him it was time to become a man and he took him to the strip club two towns over where his dad didn’t even have to bribe the bouncer to get Henry in. All of his dad’s buddies were there, and the two uncles Henry liked the least, and they had booed when he was too embarrassed to put a dollar in the woman on stage’s g-string. Uncle Rene had given him something to drink and there was another round of boos as Henry coughed it up, the burn of alcohol completely unexpected.

That night had ended with his dad punching him in the gut (so it wouldn’t show) for embarrassing him so badly. Then he had shoved him into a back room with one of the women who worked at the club, with instructions to “make a man out of him.” Thankfully Delilah had taken one look at him, and more than that, saw how old he was, and they had spent the night playing cards and talking about Harry Potter instead.

Eighteen and leaving the house for good, and the crunch of bone under his fist as he let out a life time of anger and pain in one punch to his father’s nose.

To be fair, his parents never really celebrated their own birthdays-

(why did he have to be fair? Fuck being fair.)

-and considering his track record, he saw no reason to celebrate his once he left the house. Birthdays were for people who had family and friends to celebrate with. Birthdays were for people who were used to having them. And since he fit none of the both, he would simply let it be.

—-

“I didn’t think it was that important,” Henry protested weakly. At that Stan let out a belly laugh, going on for a full minute before calming down.

“If you think Mabel would think the same, I got some ocean front property in Iowa to sell you kid.” The older man grew more solemn.

“Look, I know what it’s like to…. Not really get the point of birthdays. Trust me. Honestly I’m still pretty eh on celebrating mine to be honest but-“

Stan gestured, throwing a hand that encompassed the ratty living room, the sound of Dipper doing god-knew-what in the kitchen, the thumps of Mabel chasing Gompers outside.

“We’re not alone any more. They care about us. Maybe we should let them.”

The room was silent for a moment, and Henry looked away to give Stan the breathing room to recover from expressing an emotion.

“Besides,” Stan pointed out. “If you don’t tell Mabel, she will either kill your or get into some ridiculous shenanigans trying to find out when your birthday is.”

(It was a small gathering the next day. But as he took his first bite of birthday cake in his life, Henry had never felt more loved in his life)


	205. Five Henrys that Dipper Met

**2\. Oriole Pines**

The little girl laughed as she chased the fireflies across the yard in front of the Shack-

(no, not the Shack, the Shack had wandered on and was replaced by a pale imitation- but that wasn’t fair)

-red hair and the grape vines from her tiny antlers fluttering behind her.

As time stretched, years becoming decades becoming centuries, Dipper had found that occasionally his family once again became family. At first it weirded him out, to be honest, to see the kids reincarnated as their own descendants. That… that had to be kind of out there right? Like he wasn’t the only one seeing that? But that had been a crisis that had come and gone a few centuries ago so now he just enjoyed how… poetic. Good. How good it felt to see his family come home again, in one way at least.

He looked at Oriole’s parent, and raised an eyebrow at them.

“Oriole?”

Tanner Pines blushed. “I like birds okay?”

Dipper nodded. “As evidenced by Oriole’s siblings Wren, Sparrow, Gosling, and Pelican.”

Two things seemed to be forever constant: the fruit and antlers that sprung from Henry’s soul, and the Pines family propensity for terrible theme naming.

**3\. Jesse Cooper**

It was probably really, _really_ unkind to think of a small child as “Fruit Salad” even if it was in the privacy of one’s own head.

But looking at the little boy who was currently sitting content under a tree and playing in the dirt, it was hard for the nickname _not_ to stick.

He had seen Henry’s soul with every possible type of antler and fruit over the years. He had seen square watermelons and pineapples. [Irish elk](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fupload.wikimedia.org%2Fwikipedia%2Fcommons%2F3%2F3d%2F%25C3%259Cberseemuseum_Bremen_2009_250.JPG&t=YTM5YTRkODgzNGU1Mzc2YTRmZTk3MjI1NjhkYzUzN2UxY2M3YjUwOCxuc0FqZzhucQ%3D%3D) antlers and[pudu](http://40.media.tumblr.com/30f5f5446c35f6d37882503626ba97da/tumblr_ngajkkrauW1sqmphzo5_540.jpg) antlers and every size in between. Vines that gave off tiny bitter fruit, flowers that bloomed then immediately died, the occasional vegetable when Dipper was getting complacent, caterpillars that liked to hang out on antlers: Dipper had seen everything.

This kid however….

One tine had clusters of cherries blooming from it. Another had a large, fat, solitary grapefruit dangling off its tip. There were apples and oranges, grapes and kiwis, tomatoes and breadfruit- Dipper tried and failed to account for all the many many kinds of fruit that Jesse had blooming from his antlers.

Jesse absentmindedly reached up with a dirty hand, snatched a lemon, and bit down into it, rind and all.

Dipper sighed. Fruit salad or not, he had a feeling he’d need to look after this one carefully.

**4\. Shirl Henshaw**

Not everyone would be good. Not everyone was like who they used to be. Dipper wasn’t an idiot, he got that. Hell, as a fucking demon it shouldn’t even bother him.

But bother him it did.

Case in point….

He peered in as Shirl strutted and preened, pounced and pontificated, and otherwise utterly killed it in the courtroom.  Only he could see [the cow vetch vines](http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/145210102756/headcanon-an-rhenry-whos-kind-of-a-turd) that curled tightly around her caribou antlers and trailed down her neck and back like a cape.

Shirl Henshaw was responsible for the freedom of murderers and rapists, for innocents caught in the wrong place at the wrong time. She won divorce cases for battered spouses the same day she helped defeat restraining orders against abusers. She took on any client, and she never, _ever_ lost-

(As well she shouldn’t; he taught her most of the tricks she used in the courtroom)

He hadn’t met anyone as truly and utterly amoral as her in a very long time, and it hurt to see the soul inside twisted in such a way.

Hurt to see Henry’s strengths _still_ shine through: the interest in other people, the ability to get them to open up to hi-her.

A will that was stronger than steel, stronger than anything he had seen, even now after all these years.

And yet.

And yet he couldn’t leave her be. Couldn’t deny the part of him that thrilled at her casual, clinically cold nastiness, the steel trap of her mind.

And so he stayed, and watched Shirl finish off her prey on the witness stand.

**5\. Maritza Martinez**

Jerry, who knew more than his average nibling, sat down next to Dipper at the table in the pizza place they were eating at.

“You planned this.”

“No I didn’t.”

Jerry rolled his eyes. “Grauntie Mary warned me about you, you know.”

Dipper took a bite of his slice, which was smothered in anchovies, pineapple, and cotton candy he had snuck in. “She did, did she?”

Jerry’s eyes narrowed.

“She told me you were a shameless busybody and a terrible matchmaker.”

At the last Dipper grew offended.

“Terrible? _Terrible?_ I’ll have you know there was only ever one better matchmaker than I and she’s…. um, well she’s gone but not really but that’s not the point. The point is I’ve never had a match fail.”

“I’m just saying-“ Jerry gestured around the room, filled with their friends and family, all celebrating before the wedding tomorrow. At one of the tables, Maritza and Maddie were feeding each other pizza, or trying to. Mostly they were smearing sauce and cheese over each other’s faces and giggling like loons.

“You sure you didn’t plan this?”

Dipper had no idea all those years ago when he helped a lost little girl with a soul so intimately familiar to him find her way [through a crowded mall](http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/103695144228/a-two-shot-for-the-lovely-mod-z-who-asked-for) that they would meet again.

“Nope.”

Jerry snorted. “I don’t believe you.”

Maddie leaned in to give Maritza a kiss and strawberries began to bloom big and fat off of Maritza’s antlers.

“You don’t have to believe me”

**1\. Pham Nha Hoa**

He looked at the baby girl in his arms, so new, fresh like the sorrow threatening to rip him in two.

Looked for any sign of his brother in her, and it was unfair, bitterly unfair, Mabel wouldn’t want him to do this-

( _Henry_ wouldn’t want him to do this but Henry wasn’t here anymore, that was the fucking point-)

He was so busy looking into the infant’s eyes and unconsciously striking terror into the hearts of the entire third floor of the hospital that he missed it at first.

Hot golden tears splashed on Hoa’s cheeks as Dipper saw tiny nubs from her head, spectral and bone white, which would one day become graceful reindeer antlers. As his tear rolled down her face, a tiny sprout emerged from her left antler nub, and from it bloomed a tiny white flower.

It smelt like pine trees and flannel and Henry’s shampoo, and Dipper couldn’t do this, couldn’t fathom meeting Henry over and over again like this it wasn’t the same it would never be the same-

He put Hoa gently back down in her crib, placing a kiss on her forehead before he left.

It would be better for him, and for all the people who Henry would be, if he stayed out of their lives entirely.

No need to weigh them down with his baggage.


	206. Chapter 206

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this prompt
> 
> "Yo. Henry finally coming clean to Mabel about all the stuff he held back. Mabel helping Henry work through his shit."

“I should have told you.”

Mabel shook her head. “No, you shouldn’t have. If you weren’t ready you weren’t ready.” She paused, and burrowed further into his arms under the covers. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to have your parents over when you were obviously Not Good with that.”

Henry couldn’t help but let a tiny chuckle out at that. “Not Good.” That was certainly one way to put it.

“Well, I could have given you some warning at least,” he said instead.

“Mmmmf.”

Her fingers traced his skin, pausing over the tiny divot and bump over his ribcage. She looked at him, a silent question her eyes.

He swallowed. He could do this. He needed to tell her. _Wanted_ to tell her honestly. It was just the telling that was so damn hard.

Deep breath in. “I brought a kitten home when I was little. Dad found it, drowned it, and then punched me in the ribs. Didn’t find out until later he broke one of them. I got… I got lucky. It wasn’t a big break and it healed on its own but-” Deep breath out.

He was in awe of her hands. Like her, they were tiny and cute, strong and deadly. A thick broad palm and short stubby fingers covered in callouses and scars. No less than three rings on any day and sometimes up to eight, a whirling mix of costume jewelry and Ring Pops and Artifacts of Great Myght. They shook as her hands crept upward, to the scar at the base of his throat.

Oh yes. That one.

“Last big one of these I have,” he said, marveling at how calm he sounded. “I was…seventeen I think? Anyway, managed to save enough to buy the truck for a few hundred bucks from one of my cousins. And Dad-”

He laughed. It was mirthless and cold and he stopped it as soon as he saw Mabel flinch away from him. Henry went on.

“No, but it’s funny. Dad was so bent on me being a man, independent and not relying on him for anything but as soon as I got a truck? As soon as I had a way to escape? Well. That’s different you see.”

“What’d he do?” He had never heard her sound so small, so sad, and Henry wanted to shut his mouth, keep her from ever knowing this but she needed to know, she deserved to know him, all of him.

“Took my battery out and hid it; probably because he wanted a backup for his truck. Then he took a broken beer bottle to my throat and told me I was lucky he didn’t cut any deeper for betraying him like that.” Henry thought about it. “Only time he ever threatened to kill me.” He shrugged. “I think it was just because he got some bad moonshine that night.”

“You still got the truck.” Mabel said.

Henry couldn’t help but grin a little at that, fierce and proud in the dark.

“I still got the truck. Dad’s used to having to hide his moonshine from Mom so it took me a few months to actually find it. When I finally did, I had my cousin Terry give me an old dead battery so I could swap them out. Terry doesn’t like me but he hates Dad more.”

“And then you waited.” Sharp and jagged nails pressed gently against his skin. Once again it never failed to amaze Henry how perceptive she was.

He nodded.

“I was four months from graduation by then. I took it out driving on the nights Mom had church and Dad was… away, make sure it’d still run. Found out I had gotten a full ride to Oregon State and I started to get ready.” Deep breath in. “I packed my stuff up in the truck on a day they had gone to Bend to see my Mom’s sister, but-” Deep breath out. “They came back when I was only half done.”

Mabel reached down and squeezed his hand. “You made it. You left. You escaped.”

“Had to leave all my books and the stuff Mother Corduroy left me behind.” He sighed. “Can’t replace that last bit.”

She gently rapped her knuckles on his chest. “Can’t replace this bit either.” She paused, then said, “I’ll see what Dippindots can do about your things.” Her fingers crept up further, brushing over his stubble and onto the fine circular scars on his face.

“I was about nine, and Dad had caught me reading again for the third or fourth time that day. He-”

-a large hand around his throat holding him down on the floor while Dad knelt over him, the smell of pork chops coming from his face, trying to hold back tears because he knew if he didn’t the next butt would be put out on his eyes tears that were coming anyway-

Tears hit his chest which was weird, he wasn’t crying… Oh.

Oh.

He stroked her hair. “Hey, hey it’s okay -”

She shook her head fiercely, tangling his fingers further into her hair. “No, no it’s not okay, none of that was okay or is okay or will ever _be_ okay-”

Had anyone ever cried for him before? Henry tried to think back as far as he could but no other memories came up. What did one do in this situation? What should he say?

“It’s done now. It’s done and over and I don’t have to go back. It’s okay, I promise.”

And it was. Really it was.

Her fingers curled into claws, dug into his chest though he didn’t think she realized she was going so.

“Henry how can you say- no. No that’s not fair, I’m sorry.”

“Um, I don’t know why you’re apologizing-“

“I want to kill them Henry.”

He had never heard her voice so calm, so still, so completely and utterly drained of emotion.

“I wouldn’t need Dipper’s help even though he’d give it to me, I know he would.” It was her turn to give a laugh that wasn’t really a laugh. “He’d do anything I’d ask him to and I _mean_ anything.”

“Mabel, I-“

She went on, as if she hadn’t heard him.

“I want to use my needles and thread and sequins on them. I want to take the power tools Soos left in the back to their house. I want to empty every can of spraypaint I have on their faces I want… I want…”

Her voice went quiet.

“I want to hurt them as bad as they hurt you. Worse than they did to you. They should have never touched you.”

A cold sweat had broken out over his body. The force of her fury, her love… he had never known anything like it before. And it was directed _at_ him, marshalled _for_ him.

He was in awe. He was in love.

“I’d rather you not do any of that,” he gently said. He felt her stiffen like a board in his arms and went on. “Don’t think that’s one thing we’ll be able to bail you out of jail for.” Mabel chuckled weakly, just as he hoped she would.

Henry sat up a bit, enough to give Mabel a kiss on the top of her head.

“No, I appreciate the offer but as long as I never see them again, that’s good enough for me. I don’t need anyone or anything else but you and Dipper and Stan.” Another kiss, just because. “They’re my past. They’re nothing to me anymore. And I’m okay letting them fade away.”

“Okay.” Mabel drug in a breath. “Okay.” She paused.

“If I ever see them at our doorstep again, I will kill them,” she said conversationally. He ignored the chill that ran down his spine, somehow managed to nod.

“Okay. That’s fair. Though considering dinner tonight we probably should be fine.”

“Good.”

Words died away again and after a few minutes Mabel’s snores began to rumble against his chest. He smiled even as a bit of drool began to puddle on him.

He didn’t have to unload all of his pain and hurt in one night. He didn’t have to tell her everything (but he would, who was he kidding?) He had someone who had his back, who he could trust and count on.

He finally had a family.  


	207. Chapter 207

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From this ask
> 
> "Have any other r!Henrys and co. gotten sloshed off of soulfruit booze? Strawberry or melon cider seems fairly reasonable, but given that humans are silly and make jello shots and gummy bear shots, what could be made out of the more unconventional fruits, like cucumbers and tomatoes? And exactly what sort of situation would call for alcoholic soul ketchup?"

“This is a bad idea.”

Maddie rolled her eyes at her dad. “No it’s not, you’re just being a big old fuddy-duddy.”

They watched as Maritza gently plucked strawberries from her antlers, and placed them one by one into the blender.

Dipper huffed out a breath. “I just think you two aren’t treating this phenomenon with the proper respect due to it.”

Maddie snorted. “Bullshit. Uncle Jerry’s _told_ me about the tree in the backyard of the Shack and how it got there.” She grinned, a shark like smile akin to Dipper’s own.

“You’re just chicken.”

“I… I am not going to dignify with an answer,” Dipper replied, though Maddie noticed that he looked awfully red. 

Maddie leaned in closer as Maritza finished plucking off strawberries and started adding rum into the blender.

“Come on Dad. Just one drink. What’s the worse that could happen?”

“It’s been a _really_ long time…” 

“Just one!” The blender turned on and Maddie raised her voice to be heard over the noise. “You don’t want to hurt your new daughter-in-law’s feelings do you?”

“Fine! One drink!”

(the next morning, Gravity Falls awoke to find that every piece of furniture in their houses was upside down. Every. Single. Piece.)


	208. Chapter 208

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> from this prompt
> 
> "Prompt if you want it: The triplets teachers have a parent meeting discussing some some very concerning (demonic but not really/eltrich horror ect) books on the kids book report list. Plot twist, it wasn't Dipper that gave them the books, but Henry"

Henry couldn’t help but smile a bit as he saw the three sullen pre-teens sitting on a bench outside of the classroom. It amazed him how much each of their personality shone through, how well he could read every one of them.

Acacia’s face was set to “murder.” Her eyes glistened dangerously, and her cheeks and ears were bright red. There was a deep scowl on her face, and her fingers were digging into her legs. Angry and wanting everyone to know about it.

Hank looked sad. No, not sad. Disappointed. Disappointed at the actions of others. Disappointed at the world in which they lived. Arms and legs tucked in and head resolutely down, looking as small and pitiful as possible. A sadness, a weight, which could only be lifted by the teacher pardoning him and his siblings. After all, his body screamed, surely this was all a misunderstanding.

Willow was impassive, still. Her eyes were locked on a point on the wall across from the bench, her face neither scowling or happy or sad, or showing any kind of emotion really. She could be taken for a statue if it weren’t for her legs betraying her by occasionally kicking. Outwardly, Willow looked the calmest of the three. At least, until you saw the way her fingers were digging into her palms, the rapidness of her breathing.

The fire in her eyes.

His feet made a noise and as one his children’s heads snapped up, eyes locking on him. Three sets of lungs breathing suddenly in time, hands held without any conscious thought.

Triplets.

Henry laughed softly.

“Relax guys. You’re not in trouble this time.” They relaxed and the dad in Henry made him emphasize, “ _This_  time.”

As one, the looks on their faces went from triumph to annoyance.

—-

Mr. Tanner looked up as the triplets’ father came in. He stood up from behind his desk and extended a hand towards the other man.

“Thank you for stopping by, Mr. Pines-“

Mr. Pines smiled, a sweet, shy smile that surprised him coming from a man of his stature. The triplets’ parent shook his hand, and unlike most of the fathers who came in didn’t try and make it a hand squeezing contest.

“No troubles Mr. Tanner.”

Mr. Pines went to sit down and Mr. Tanner pretended not to notice the trouble Mr. Pines was having as he tried to fold his large frame into one of the desks. Seeing as Hank, and even the girls were beginning to have the same troubles, Mr. Tanner made a mental note to raid the classroom next door for better desks.

Mr. Pines steepled his fingers.

“If I may ask, what is the problem with my children, Mr. Tanner? I generally find them to be well behaved, but I also know that they still get into trouble occasionally.”

Mr. Tanner thought about the contents in the bottom of his desk drawer and shuddered.

“Mr. Pines, I am… concerned. About your children. And….. potentially the environment they are in.”

The face that sat across from Mr. Tanner was placid, completely dumb, not confused or angry or upset just…. _There_.

“Go on,” he said calmly.

Mr. Tanner was uncomfortable. Why was that? He reached up and adjusted his collar before going on.

“The children all asked to do the same book for their book report, which I had no problem with-“ Something made him add, “Honestly, I didn’t mind at all.”

(why? What was it in this stranger’s eyes that compelled him to say that?)

The teacher went on. “However, I grew concerned immediately when I saw their selection.”

“Which was?”

Just thinking about it brought a flush to Mr. Tanner’s face.

“The… The ‘Dartimeus Trilogy’,” Mr. Tanner said in a hushed tone. “It’s been banned across the country for its positive portrayal of demon summoning. It makes it look…. look… look  _easy!_ ”

“Well, generally it is,” Mr. Pines pointed. “That’s what makes it so dangerous.”

Mr. Tanner frowned. Perhaps the parent wasn’t appreciating the danger of the situation.

“The book is from the point of view  _of a demon Mr. Pines!”_

Mr. Pines shrugged. “Good. That means the kids know what to look for. Once again, don’t see the problem here.”

“I… Mr. Pines-“

“Please. Call me Henry.”

Mr. Tanner sighed. “ _Henry._  You seem very blasé about this but I am genuinely concerned about your children. I believe they have fallen under the influence of demonic forces.”

“From reading a book?”

Mr. Tanner sniffed. “Come now Mr. Pines. Your family runs an occult library. You should know very well what dangerous knowledge is contained between the pages of a book.”

“I am quite aware of that, yes.” The other man’s voice had grown colder. “I’ve read most of the books at the house, as well as what we have at my workplace.”

Had the room grown colder as well? Was that a glint in Mr. Pines’ eye? An inhuman glint? Was he slowly losing his marbles?

“How long have you been in town, Mr. Tanner?”

The teacher started at the non sequitur. “Um, about two years now. Why?”

Henry stared at him for a long second. Mr. Tanner felt like the triplet’s father was weighing his soul, judging him and finding him wanting. Sweat began to pool at the base of his throat. Perhaps it was this man that had begun to indoctrinate his children into the dark arts? Oh god had he invited in some warlock or cult master?

The other man took off his glasses and began to clean them. Finally he said, “I believe you should call your colleague at the elementary school, Mrs. Robinson. She had… similar misconceptions about the triplets once, and I believe she will do a more convincing job of dispelling your doubts than I even could. I’ll leave her number for you before I go.”

He held his glasses up to the light, frowned, and continued to clean them. “Secondly, I know you mentioned in school suspension for the children, but I will have you know that I was the one that recommended that series for them to read.”

“I… what?”

“And furthermore, if there were books you didn’t want your students to read you should have told them up front.”

Henry put his glasses back on and looked at Mr. Tanner. “While I certainly don’t have a problem with my children being disciplined at school, in this case I believe it is entirely unmerited. You will drop the suspension.”

Hazel eyes speared him mercilessly, and Mr. Tanner found himself weakly saying, “Yes. Of course.”

Then Mr. Pines surprised him a final time by smiling.

“Don’t worry, I’ll let them know this is a one time thing. I don’t want to undermine your authority in the classroom after all.” A brief shadow crossed over his face. “I just don’t believe in undeserved punishment.”

Mr. Pines got up and extended his hand. Mr. Tanner weakly did the same.

“I’m so glad we had this discussion,” Mr. Pines said.

“Yeah, me too.” Mr. Tanner weakly replied.

After the other man gave him a business card with a phone number on it and left, Mr. Tanner collapsed behind his desk, feeling like he just ran a marathon.

What in the world had he just gotten into?


	209. Chapter 209

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> smallricochet: Henry trying to be romantic with mabel despite or enabled by dipper

Most of the time, Henry genuinely delighted in living with his extended family. He never imagined that such love would be in his life, that adults could actually live together and _like_ each other. It wasn’t just living together. It was making meals and playing cards and watching bad movies and pranking trick or treaters together too.

(Well, that last one was usually just Mabel and Dipper and Stan.)

That being said, there were times where his family could be… frustrating.

Like Stan’s habit of dropping body hair in the food he cooked and leaving toenail clippings everywhere. 

And Dipper’s inability to take a hint. 

“So. Dipper.”

Dipper, physical for a few minutes thanks to the candy bar Henry had given him, nodded.

“Yeah.”

“So tomorrow is Valentine’s Day.”

Dipper rolled his eyes. “Sheesh, don’t I know it. I’ve been getting the grossest summons all day.”

Okay, maybe Dipper would actually get the hint. “Oh?”

Dipper nodded. “Yeah, lots of souls being offered for like, diamond rings. And that’s _it!_  Nothing else! I mean, souls, that’s g̦̙̩r̝͔͎͈͔ͅe͖a̭̫̙̜̖̥͉̕t̩, but all these deals are so… so… _one-sided_.” Dipper shuddered. “I like a good trick or thirty, but this isn’t even any fun any more.”

Or maybe not. 

Okay, try again.

“So, Mabel and I would like some alone time.”

No answer, just a blank and friendly look.

“Especially since it’s our first Valentine’s Day since we got married.”

Still nothing. A fly landed on Dipper’s eye. The demon didn’t seem to register the fly but a second later Dipper’s tounge lashed out and lapped it up like a frog.

“And I know you like to crawl into bed with us or watch us sleep at night or-” Henry barely choked back a groan, “Make loud noises and turn on all the lights at three am because they’re funny, but could you please do none of that tomorrow night.”

Dipper cocked his head at him. “Why?”

As in, why wasn’t it Mabel, who was a lot more…. frank about these kind of things than Henry, having this talk with Dipper? Good question. 

Henry sighed. “Because.”

Dipper threw his hands up in the air.

“That’s not an answer at all Henry! Sheesh, come on, _demon_ , you’re going to have to do better.”

“We’d like some… alone time.”

“But you get lots of alone time at night before I come in!”

Near omnipotence aside, Henry _knew_  that his brother-in-law was reasonably intelligent and sensible.

“This is special couple alone time. You know what I mean?”

Please let him know what Henry meant-

Dipper shook his head. “No idea.”

“What if we go and get you a few steaks to leave us alone tomorrow night?”

“No dice.”

Henry’s jaw dropped and Dipper shrugged. 

“Like I said, I’ve been getting good deals. And now you’ve made me curious.”

“Dipper, _please-”_

 _“_ You really haven’t given me a good reason-”

Henry snapped. “We’d like to have sex Dipper! Sex without worrying if we’re going to get interrupted!”

“Oh.”

Dipper turned red.

“ _Oh.”_

He turned literally red, and then melted into a pile of goo on the floor, before slipping in between the cracks of the floorboard.

Henry should have probably felt worse about the whole affair, especially since Dipper didn’t show his face around the house for two days afterwards but on the other hand….

It was a _nice_ Valentine’s Day.


	210. Chapter 210

“They’re beautiful.”

Stan looked at Dipper, who was physical for once, and looking at their new nephew and nieces.

(they were both uncles now. They both had that in common, and wasn’t that a little odd, the boy he part raised and him both uncles?)

“That’s um… yeah. I guess?” Stan managed to choke out.

Truthfully Dipper was right. The three red squirmy things in front of them _were_ the most beautiful amazing things (people) Stan had ever seen in his life.

He thought he had stopped believing in miracles.

Stan also thought he had stopped being such a sappy clichéd fuck, but here he was. Trying not to cry and mostly succeeding.

A miracle that Mabel had all three of them at once.

A miracle that all three of them were alive and well. And yes, that was down to a deal and life syphoned away but it was still a god damn miracle.

And he didn’t care how dumb and hokey it sounded, it was _his_ mind and…

And….

And he remembered eating out of dumpsters.

He remembered a knife in the back from a friend.

He remembered jail, and how cold the cell got at night and how hard the bunks were.

He remembered thirty years of cold lonely nights, an empty house.

Two kids, and a girl that kept him in her home, her life.

Trusted her with her children.

“Yeah,” Stan said. “You’re right kid. They are beautiful.”


	211. Chapter 211

They come in all sizes, from xxs to 6xl. Dipper points out that he can change the sizes with magic, but Mabel purses her lips at him and shakes her head, that’s not the _point_  Dipper, the _point_  is that this is a sweater for that person. Special for them.

(he thinks about altering the size once or twice for a certain Mizar or five. Then he remembers the look on Mabel’s face, and brings out another sweater instead.)

There’s so many of them. A pittance compared to infinity, perhaps, but this is his twin his sister, Mabel Pines, Queen of Crafts, Empress of Yarn, and she finishes a sweater every other day. She makes three or four sweaters a week, and one of them is always for the Stash.

(Dipper calls it the Stash. Mabel calls it the “Future Me Fun Clothes Time Bundle.”)

There’s the plain ones, albeit in every color of the rainbow and shades only art students and his sister can see. Sweaters with only a single letter on it, for names. She makes three sets of the alphabet, so that everyone has a choice of color and size. 

She does animals. She does flowers and fruit and abstract designs. She does waffle dogs riding rainbows and candle headed women jumping rope and illustrated fart joke sweaters. Puns and unicorns and neon sparkle light up sweaters. Things that even Dipper can’t parse and jokes that will be out of style in a month, let alone a millennium or five. 

Hundreds upon hundreds of sweaters, all knitted from the Flock’s wool to last, all made with love, love and hope for the future.

(There’s never a Mizar who doesn’t love the sweater Dipper gives them. Never.)


	212. Chapter 212

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> thoughtsfromajackofart: Henry employing an absurd amount of antler hands to cleaning bookshelvs at the shack without realizing it

Henry looked around him and sighed.

He had taken the last two days off from work to help out at the Shack, which was hosting an inordinate amount of researchers all working on lycanthropy. 

He had expected nothing but the best behavior from the cadre of academics, but instead he had spent the last two days trying to keep the noise down when the triplets were taking their naps, preventing professors from smuggling books out from the Shack, and breaking up at least seven fistfights.

The last one had been between two sixty year old men, over a bad journal review from twenty years ago. After that one, Henry was once again thankful that he decided against a career in academia.

His eyes moved back to the tables and he sighed. Especially since it seemed the bulk of them were inconsiderate slobs. Books upon books upon books were left stacked in teetering and structurally unsound piles on each and every table. Henry couldn’t help but let out a little groan as he began the arduous duty of reshelving everything.

He stacked his cart as full as he could, then began to move through the stacks. After a few minutes, however, he noticed that the cart was a lot lighter than it should have been. Like he had been shelving for a half hour rather than ten minutes. 

Where had all the books gone? 

Henry looked around. It felt like the answer was just around the corner, just out of the corner of his eye, the books floating in the air, the heavy feeling on his crown-

Oh.

Oh goddamnit.

It turned out that having pieces of people’s personalities-

( _not_  souls, as Henry had learned the first time he said that in front of Dipper. The demon’s face grew incredibly pained, and then Henry was treated to a forty minute lecture about how souls didn’t work like that.)

-hanging around attached to you came with consequences. Some of those consequences were the thousand damnable little tics and habits, tricks and talents that he had gained with each hand he took. And then there were the other consequences.

Like the darn things having mini lives of their own.

Now that he was aware of them, he could sense/see his extra hands and their books, all frozen midair now that he had caught them.

Henry sighed.

Hell.

They only wanted to help. And he had to admit, they _were_  making this go a lot faster.

“Carry on then,” he said, and picked up the next book to shelve.


	213. Chapter 213

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: We all know that Dipper has the tendency to hack up hairballs. Give us a list of some of the weirder things that have come out of his stomach.

**Seven Things Dipper ~~Puked Up Like A Demon Kitty~~  Produced From the Ether:**

**1. Red Hair**

“Yeah, that will be two thousand dollars.”

Stan pulled away the phone from his ear as the voice on the other end squawked loudly in protest. He let the rube go on for a minute then barked in the phone, “Shut up and let me get a word in! Sheesh.”

A dark mutter on the other side, and Stan shook his head pityingly.

* * *

“I know it’s expensive, but can you think of anyone else on the market that’s selling not only a bezoar, but a bezoar from a genuine demon? Think of the possibilities!”

A pause.

“Well, yes, it may be no different than a regular bezoar,” Stan admitted, rolling his eyes. “But even if it’s not… well. A smart man like you, I’m sure can think of ways to perhaps upsell this.”

More muttering and Stan grinned. Got him.

Belying the look on his face, Stan’s voice turned sorrowful. “Okay, okay, I see that you don’t believe the testimonials my other customers have given you, my own quality assurances. For you, I’ll do fifteen hundred.”

Another squawk and Stan scowled. It was a good thing Dipper kept being weird and puking the damn things up.

“Okay, fine, twelve hundred but I go no lower… you’ll take it? Good! I’ll be up tomorrow in Bend and we can finish the deal there.”

A few more niceties and Stan hung up the phone over a thousand dollars richer.

He looked up.

Mabel was standing in the doorway, tapping her foot and folding her arms.

“Sweetie I can explain-“

Mabel suddenly smiled. This did not assuage Stan’s fears by any means at all. In fact, he felt his heart stutter.

Mabel walked over and suddenly gave him a big hug.

“Oh Grunkle Stan you big softie!”

“Um, what?”

“Providing for the kids’ college funds like that! I mean I know they’re babies right now but it’s so important to start young-“

Stan choked.

“ _What?_  Kid I love you but you’ve got to be ki-“

He looked into Mabel’s eyes.

Sighed.

She kissed his cheek.

“If you want to sell Dipper’s weird demon puke without me knowing, you  _really_  should consider the internet.”

**2\. Rhinestones**

Dipper coughed, and a shower of rhinestones landed on Mabel’s sweater, perfectly bedazzling it.

His sister was not as impressed or happy as he hoped.

“ _Dipper!_ ”

“What? You bedazzled your face once!”

His twin threw aside the math homework she had been working on and stomped her foot in protest.

“That’s not what I’m upset about!”

Dipper frowned. He was only being a sensitive and thoughtful brother who wanted to do something nice for his sister.

Mabel pinched her nose, a gesture she had picked up since they had moved in with Grunkle Stan.

“I’ve been looking for these for a week now. I was going to use them for Mom’s birthday present?” At Dipper’s blank look, she sighed and said, “You know, I told you! I’m going to do their wedding picture but five feet tall and with sparkles and sequins and-“

She pointed her finger at him.

“ _Rhinestones_.”

“Just get some more then.”

She looked at him witheringly. “Stan had to drive me all the way to Bend to get those Dipper. It cost me a few hours working at the Shack.”

He didn’t get the problem. “Just make a deal with me then! I can blip you there no problem, no, wait… These rhinestones, on your desk, only a few drops of blood or that Snickers you got in your desk-“

“You’re still missing the point!”

“What’s the point?”

“ _Don’t mess with my stuff-“_

“I can replace it though!”

“That’s not…I…” Mabel let out a long scream of frustration that grated on his sensitive ears.

“I think you need to calm down Mabel.”

That turned out to be the wrong thing to say.

(Stan eventually had to come upstairs to break up their fight, which was kind of hard when he couldn’t see or hear one of them, but he did it anyway.)

**3\. Teeth (bovine)**

“Can I use these to make a necklace?”

Dipper looked from the deer teeth, which still, god damnit _still_ brought up bad memories, to his grand-nephew.

“Um, sure?” He paused. “Didn’t really think you were one for jewelry Nito.”

Nito calmly scooped the still wet and covered in goo teeth into a plastic shopping bag he had gotten from the bag bag on the wall.

“Oh I’m not, but I got an assignment due in Sculpture class next week, and I can make something really pretentious and over the top with these.”

Dipper grinned. It did his heart good to see Nito conning his way through art school.

**4\. The TV Remote**

Despite the massive amount of books and reading that went on in the Shack, the arts and crafts, the home repair, there was still seven people and only one TV in the house.

Frequently, there were conflicts.

“Uncle Dipper! Mom said it was my turn for the TV!”

Dipper laid a gloved hand on his chest, and contrived to look mortally wounded.

“Pole Star, who is the adult here?”

“You-“

He grinned, exposing both rows of fangs.

“Good. And as such, I get dibs on the TV.”

Acacia folded her arms and frowned at him

“Nuh-uh. Mom said-“ She screwed her face up remembering for a second and went on. “If you’re going to act thirteen like the kids then you get treated like you’re thirteen.”

Damn. He hoped that she had forgotten that.

Acacia held out a hand for the clicker. “Gimme.”

In response, Dipper opened his mouth wider than should be humanly possible and threw the clicker up in the air. A long snakelike tongue shot out, wrapped around it, and pulled it down into his stomach. He clicked his mouth closed and looked at Acacia pleased as punch.

In response Acacia looked at him calculatingly for a second, then punched his stomach.

“Ac̷a͞c͝ia ̸what̷-“

He looked at the TV. The channel had changed.

Oh _no_ -

She punched his stomach again and the channel changed once more.

“Polaris!”

Another punch and it landed on the channel that Acacia wanted. She patted his stomach with a smug grin, then snuggled up to him on the couch, satisfied with her victory.

(A few hours later Henry noticed that the clicker was oddly sticky. He decided he was happier not knowing.)

**5\. An empty carton of ice cream**

Henry shook his head at Dipper.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

Henry rolled his eyes as he tossed the carton in the trash.

“Next time don’t blame the kids.”

**6\. The Mirror of Samkarahra**

“Guys, guys!”

Hank and Acacia looked up as Willow burst into the room, wheezing from running up the stairs.

“You need your inhaler Will?” Acacia asked.

Willow scowled.

“ _No_ , I’m  _fine_  Cacia,” Willow grit out with as much scorn as a seven year old could muster.

Hank saw Acacia open her mouth to respond and before his sisters could start fighting blurted out “Whacha got Willow?”“

Willow brightened and the atmosphere became immediately less fraught.

“Uncle Dipper’s sleeping on the couch and then he coughed and look what came out!”

She brandished an old looking hand mirror, the glass a deep blue-black and the backing and handle a tarnished gold. There were weird designs carved into both the back and on the handle, but the triplets didn’t notice. As one they chorused “Deep Aqua Mirror!”

A month or two ago, when all three of them were sick with the flu, Mommy had bundled all of them up into her and Daddy’s bed and together the four of them had watched through two seasons of one of Mommy’s favorite cartoons, Sailor Moon. Since then they had seen every episode, from both versions of the show- Hank and Willow preferred Crystal while Acacia liked the original better.

Sailor Moon was their new favorite game to play and they spent hours running around being the scouts and saving the day. Hank, his sisters had imperiously decided, was obviously Sailor Moon, something he had no problem with. Acacia was usually Sailor Jupiter and Willow Sailor Neptune which brought them back to-

“We probably shouldn’t play with it,” Hank muttered and the three of them were quiet for a minute. They were well aware of who and what Uncle Dipper was. Just as they knew in their bones that Uncle Dipper loved them more than life itself, they also knew that Uncle Dipper could be dangerous and they had to be careful around him. And the neat stuff he bought into the house with him.

However wiser, warier, and worldlier the triplets were over people their age they were still only seven.

“I think it’ll be fine!” Acacia said and they started to play.

A few minutes later, as Willow raised the mirror to attack, Hank noticed something.

“That’s not my face in the Aqua Mirror,” he said quietly. He looked at Acacia. “I though you said it’d be okay?”

Acacia turned to Willow who shrugged, still holding the mirror.

“It doesn’t have colors so it’s not like that sword Grunkle Stan brought home with a person inside.”

Hank had continued to study the face in the mirror.

“Guys, I think it’s me. As a grown up.”

Immediately all three of them clamored around the mirror. Indeed, there was a grown up version of Hank, eating ice cream with a shorter woman who was wearing the most awesome cherries and skulls dress ever. Behind them a pretty lady with a blue Mohawk was scowling.

Willow shoved Hank a bit so she could get a better view and suddenly-

“It’s me!” As they watched a grown up Willow was busy putting books on the shelf at the Library downstairs.

Acacia practically pushed her siblings out of the way to get a turn and screamed gleefully as her older self appeared, covered in paint and chewing on the end of a paintbrush.

Willow put the mirror down and the three of them looked at each other in awe. They had a new game to play.

They took turns passing the mirror to each other, looking on in awe as their older selves played with their own kids, drove, ate ice cream  _in the morning_ , and so on.

But then things got darker. Willow, wreathed in flames, screaming in rage. Hank, limping, a cane in his hand and an attacker behind him. Acacia, a mad, terrible grin on her face, covered in blood and missing an eye.

It was scary and Hank was beginning to cry and Willow’s hands were shaking, and yet they couldn’t stop passing the mirror around, completely trapped.

As Acacia passed the mirror again, she saw blood on her hand and that’s when she screamed. Uncle Dipper suddenly burst into reality in their room. He quickly plucked the mirror from Acacia, chucking it in his top hat before grabbing all three of them and frantically looking them over. He licked Acacia’s hand until the cuts that had come from the mirror disappeared, and touched his forehead to Willow’s, doing something that the other two couldn’t see but knew it had to do with colors. In a few minutes they would be in trouble, they knew, but for now everything was right in their world again.

(He really needed to start putting artifacts in his hat instead of his stomach.)

**7\. Small Plastic Dinosaurs**

He hadn’t thought much about Mabel offering him two gallons of Mabel Juice in exchange for a few hours of physicality, only chugged the juice in one go, and then burping loud enough to shake the Shack to its rafters.

Now however, looking at the plastic dinosaurs in his hand he had spent the past hour coughing up, he wondered how exactly Mabel survived drinking her own concoction daily.


	214. Chapter 214

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TAU prompt: in those first years After Transcendence, Alcor wasn't the biggest baddest demon around, was he? Maybe there was a time he bit off more than he could chew and only barely escaped from another demon. He goes to the Shack to lick his wounds and his family gets to patch him up. Oh! And another prompt: Henry meeting Ford. I really think those two would bond over books.

He laid on the old triangle rug that had once lain in the gift shop but now rested in the kitchen and struggled to hold on to his humanoid form. His form had shifted, going smaller and younger to the age he was when the world ended, when he had di-changed, but it hadn’t really helped. He hadn’t needed to breathe for almost two decades but still he heaved for breath. Likewise the facsimile of a heart that he usually imagined for himself beat fast enough to burst out of his chest, when it was there. Golden blood leaked from a thousand cuts, pooling onto the carpet and the wood and beginning to eat away at the floor. Parts of him-an arm, a good chunk out of his left side, half of his head-was simply…gone. The air where they should have been constantly glitched. 

A glitch and his missing parts were being reassembled with living tiny black bricks with bat wings edged in gold that faded into the air. 

Glitch and instead of an eerie nothingness there was glistening blood and bone exposed to the air, muscle and skin torn and tattered. 

Glitch and there was….eyes. Eyes and wings and things that would break a human mind just to see it (see _him_ ,) glimpses of his true form (or of his form to come.)

Upstairs, Dipper could sense his sister, sense one-two-three little stars sleeping in their cribs under the watchful eyes of their mother. He clung to those links to his heart and soul, the bonds that tethered him to this plane, fed into his power and ability to influence this realm. He concentrated on them so he wouldn’t have to think about his colossal fuck up instead.

Yesterday Dipper had sensed one of the Old Ones rising up from his resting place within the Mariana Trench and heading due northwest towards the coast of Oregon. Honestly, it was no skin off of Dipper’s nose if old Fnarfy (he had taken a page from Mabel’s book and gave him a mocking nickname) ate a few dozen people off the beach before going back into the depths.

But then his mind began to wonder if Fnarfy would stop at just the beach. What if he decided to see what was up the Colombia River? What if he decided to step fully onto the land and start a rampage southbound? What if he got to Gravity Falls _and ate the kids and Mabel and Henry and Stan and-_

It was at that point that he had had the brilliant idea to go and nip this problem in the bud. And okay, in retrospect, he was _probably_ being a little bit cocky. Sure he was a demon now, with limitless power and access to the physical realm that no other demon had. He also, Dipper now realized as he lay bleeding and battered on the floor, had a _lot_ (read, millennia) of growing into his power to do. A scrawny thirty year old former mortal against Fnar’fl’fgan, Devourer of the Light…..Dipper flattered himself a bit that he got a few good hits in, and to be fair, Fnarfy was headed back towards his hidey hole, but still-

Dipper sighed as he regained enough strength to manifest his missing body parts, though he still didn’t feel up to getting off the floor or closing his multiple wounds.  At least no one was at home to see his embarrassment.

Stan walked in from the library and promptly tripped over Dipper. Dipper curled up into a ball, moaning, because for once pain was _not_ fun.

His grunkle looked down at him and adjusted his glasses.

“Damn kid. Didn’t think you could get the shit kicked out of you anymore. “

“͜M̰̱n̮͢ǹ̼͈͈f̟͓̪̝.̣̯͚̰

“A big pillow get the best of you noodle-arms?” Stan laughed at his own wit, stepped over Dipper, and started to make his way up the stairs. “I’ll get your sister for you kiddo.”

Dipper managed to summon the will power needed to throw his arm over his eyes.

Mabel would get the reason for this out of him in two minutes flat and when she heard about his overconfidence…..

Dipper couldn’t spare the energy but he still couldn’t help but let out a big groan.

He was so in for it now. 


	215. Chapter 215

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> beelieveinbees: Dippers first encounter with Mabel’s next incarnation.

“I want to see you again,” she had said in the in between before her soul had poofed, reborn somewhere else.

And he did too. 

Desperately, a burning need and howling sense of loss that felt like it was going to rip him asunder. 

But he couldn’t do this.

It was easy at first, when Mabe- no, _new_  name, use her _new_ name- when _Tommy_  was born. Babies pretty much were the same every where, so for awhile Dipper was able to fool himself into thinking that this would be okay, that it would work.

But.

He peered in from the Mindscape to look at Tommy playing with some blocks on the floor, and sighed.

The problem wasn’t with Tommy.

The problem was that Tommy wasn’t Mabel. 

Every waking moment of Tommy’s life that Dipper saw he was constantly, fruitlessly comparing it with his memories of him and Mabel at that age, and even though he knew better, fuck he fucking _knew_  better, he found Tommy wanting.

Tommy was quiet where Mabel had been loud, clean where Mabel had been messy. Mabel had made friends with everyone from the mailman to the vacuum cleaner, whereas Tommy was terrified of strangers. Even their bad habits were different: Mabel had been a terrific liar when they were little, whereas Tommy still sucked his thumb even at five. 

This wasn’t his sister. Tommy would never be his sister, would not even be a pale imitation. He would never know his sister again and he certainly wasn’t helping things by shoving his issues off on a five year old. 

Dipper retreated back fully into the Mindscape, and tried not to think about how old the triplets were getting. 


	216. Chapter 216

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> regularlyfe: Dipper saving Henry’s butt in the early stages of Mabel and his relationship,

Henry had just sat down to his bowl of soup at Uncle Dan’s house when

_“H̨E̸̛N̛͝RY̷͟͠ D̸̨O̕͜҉N̸͘'͏̵T ͘̕Ḑ̸̀Ǫ̛҉ ̨͏͢I̴̡T͘!”_

Henry, who had just put a spoonful of soup to his mouth, spewed hot liquid everywhere. 

Meanwhile, the demon had risen from the floor, his head appearing first halfway out of the floorboards, then through the wood of the table, before finally appearing over the table, bobbing gently in the air.

It had been a few months, and Henry felt like he was beginning to really know his girlfriend’s brother. That’s why he felt comfortable putting his spoon down, looking him straight in the eye, and saying, “Dipper, what the fuck?”

Dipper shrugged, his top hat bobbing up as his shoulders moved. “Henry, I’m only concerned about your welfare.”

Henry looked at the inoffensive bowl of soup, then back at Dipper, and raised his eyebrows.

Dipper frowned. 

“Look dude, you had a fly fall in there when you were making it. A ̨FLY̢! ͢T̕ḨE҉ ̨HÀR͠B̸INGE҉R͏ ̢OF ̢DIS͠E͝A̢SE!̢ ̸A҉L͢S̛O͠ ́REA͢LLY͢ ͡ _ **GRO͝SS!̀”**_

Henry stared at Dipper for a solid minute, then pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I think it will be fine Dip-”

“S̷ER̵I̵OU̶S͢LY ̨H͟EN̨RY̴ DO͠ Y̕O͜Ù K̨N͟OW͜ ẂHAT҉ ǴE͘R͜MS͡ ̷AR̛E ͏O̕N F҉L͝IE̶S͘? I D̨O̶.̛ ̷I͠ ̨K̛N̸OW͝ ̷E̡V͜E͜R͏Y GERM-͝ “

“I know that at this point you’ve probably woken my uncles up from their nap and neither of them are going to be happy about it.”

Dipper paused, thought about Manly Dan, and audibly gulped.

“Um, well, it was nice to see you, don’t eat that nasty ass soup, b͈y͇͖e̮̟͉!̲̟̠̯͙̦̀!̰͍̼!̷̰”

Dipper blipped out of existence, and Henry couldn’t help but smile as he continued to tuck in.

(when he told Mabel the next day, she laughed so hard she began to cry. Then proceeded to tease Dipper about it for the rest of her life)


	217. Chapter 217

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ectopuppy: smth pazzers/dippindots

“My hair looks terrible.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“Yes it does! It’s all frizzy and greasy!”

Pacifica sighed. Mabel had warned her that Dipper was starting to get particular about his hair as well but she didn’t warn her it was going to be this bad.

“You’re a demon, and your body is, as you remind us time and time again, only a shell you wear.”

Dipper frowned. “And your point is?”

Pacifica rolled her eyes. “You can make your hair look like whatever you want, you stooge.”

He instantly brightened. “Oh yeah!” His hair didn’t change, at least in her eyes, but he obviously did something to it because he began to preen in the mirror.

Dipper turned to her. “Better?”

She looked at him for a long moment. The first time or two she had asked Dipper to accompany her to a party or a function it had only been to piss her parents off. But while that was still a large part of it, it wasn’t the whole of it any more. But she had discovered that Dipper was now the ultimate party date. All it took was a freezer full of ice cream and he was here for the night.

Having a date (a male date) kept the majority of the parasites and leeches off of her back. While Dipper had always been smart, now his brains and wit were sharpened with demonic keenness, and he could snipe and parry with the cattiest and pettiest of party guests. Already some of his repartee were still being talked about months after he had uttered them.Though he was still a slob when he was eating at home with his friends and family, at the dinners they attended his manners were impeccable.

He cleaned up nicely-

(He cleaned up _real_ good, her hindbrain chimed in. Pacifica squashed that because she was absolutely not attracted to her friend nope, no way.)

He cleaned up nicely as well. With his new inclination towards formal wear, and formal wear only, it was impossible for him not to look anything less than impressive at each event they went to. She had noticed a few people in her set beginning to ape Dipper, trying on tailcoats and chains across their vests. Of course, none of them were able to carry it off with the aplomb that Dipper was able to-

“Pacifica? Is everything okay?”

Brilliant, dashing, dapper, dangerous. 

Perfect.

The man (demon) standing in front of her was perfect. 

Looking at him, Pacifica couldn’t help but remember the boy he had been. Smart, bumbling, sloppy, stinky, and a tiny bit dangerous. Dipper had gained so much when he had been transformed to the being he was now.

But there was so, so much that he had lost, some little inner core of ‘Dipperness’ that had burned away in the fires of the Transcendence.

“Paz?”

She shook her head. 

No matter what he was still her friend, whom she loved dearly. He was still Dipper Pines.

She smiled, and if her heart wasn’t wholly into it, well. She had had long practice at those kinds of smiles.

“You look wonderful Dipper.”


	218. Chapter 218

Hungry.

Every part of the creature ached. It felt like his insides were gnawing at themselves, pulling muscle and bone, vein and ligament, pulling every part of him into his stomach in a vain attempt to sate his desire but it wasn’t enough, would never be enough.

Hungry.

He fell to the ground, fell to all fours, dug fingers into the ground (fingers parting carpet and wood and cement like butter) and howled. He wanted, he wanted, he _wanted_ -

What. What was it he wanted? For that matter, he had a feeling that he used to be more than just the blinding, tearing, screaming sensation of want that was tearing within him. Then another pang hit and his thoughts disappeared into sheer and utter

Hungry.

His head shot up, his nostrils flared as he scented the air.

Food. Upstairs. Up. Up. _Up._

He was there in the room with the food faster than thought (how? Didn’t matter) and looked down at his prey.

There were three of them, all lying in the same box. They were covered in some kind of cloth bag but he could take care of that pretty easily. They were fast asleep, and did not stir at his arrival. Good. No fuss that way. Another sniff let him know that they were mostly sweet-tasting fat and bones that would easily crunch within his teeth and a bit of hair that would get in the way but it didn’t matter because

Hungry.

He reached a shaking hand out reached a hand down to grab one and

**N̰ ̯̞̺̀O̜̰͕ͅ**

He shied away back from the box (crib), away from the prey (stars triplets _his_ ). He looked at his hands in befuddlement, the waves of hunger temporarily fading from importance. Where had that word come from? And why?

He looked down again. They were so small (so helpless) that they would probably only drive away the hunger for a second but even a second free from the tearing dragging sucking pain that was consuming him would be worth it and

**_N̸̮ ̘̘̤̹͙O̖̤̰̠͈̺!_ **

The force of that actually pushed him away from the crib, sent him flying backwards and hitting the wall. He blinked as the food (one two three stars) awoke at the sound, blinked as his prey (Acacia Hank Willow) began to stir and make snuffly sounds and squirm in their cloth sacks.

Blinked as from them he could sense three tiny stomachs churning and aching just like his was.

Hungry.

They weren’t prey, they were…. Something else, and they were _hungry_.

He couldn’t have them hurting like he did. Couldn’t have them suffer the way he was right now.

He touched their minds, sent them back into sleep temporarily, before ripping his way into the Mindscape, tearing across space and minds looking for anything to stop the

Hungry.

He found a demon like him (not like him no one was like him.)

What was their name? What had they done? It didn’t matter. All that mattered was fang and claw finally, finally sinking into flesh and fuck that felt so sweet. Acidic purple blood gushing into his mouth, falling down his throat, staining his front. The hunger screaming louder than ever, screaming impatiently to be filled. Rip and tear, bite and chew, more more more it wasn’t enough it would never _be_ enough

He remembered at the last moment that there were whelps he needed to care for so he brought the carcass to them. Three little stars stirred and reawoke as he dropped the body on the floor. He scissored off the tiniest pieces of meat that he could to feed their fangless mouths, though that didn’t work quite as well as he would have liked. He ended up coating his fingers in the other demon’s blood and sticking them in his stars’ mouths, letting them suck the blood from his fingers. It was hard, feeding all three of them at once, but it was worth it to quiet the beast in their stomachs. When they finished he took care of the rest of the carcass, then curled up around the three of them in their box, the pain finally gone. He covered them with his wings, and fell asleep alongside of them.

(Dipper woke up to find him and the triplets wet and sticky and covered head to toe in purple blood, just in time for Henry to walk in the room)


	219. Chapter 219

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Please put me down it’s just a sprained ankle"

“Dipper.”

“No.”

Mabel looked over Dipper’s shoulder at the approaching horde of zombies.

“I really think you could use my help so if you’d just-”

_“N̗o̡̯̪!”_

Mabel winced as Dipper swerved around a tree, jolting her ankle in the process. She tried again.

“Look I can’t run but I can stand and we obviously need to take a stand so if you’d just put me down-”

“I can handle it Mabel,” Dipper said through gritted teeth. 

Mabel snorted, even as the zombies grew worryingly closer.

“You said that about the necromancers last week and remember what happened?”

“ _We agreed not to talk about that-”_

“Pfffft. Maybe you did but _I_ didn’t! Just like I remember you having to get your butt saved by me, Mabel!”

A zombie got close enough to nip at Dipper’s wing. Dipper twisted his head until it faced behind him and hissed.

His head completed a full circle back to Mabel.

“If I let you down and help me will you never mention either of these things again?”

“Of course!”

(it was a good thing he was carrying her so he didn’t notice her crossing her fingers in the folds of her sweater.)


	220. Chapter 220

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> First time Dipper went into full demon-mode in front of Stan/Ford? Henry? The triplets?

Stan settled onto the ratty and vaguely moldy couch, doing his best to ignore both the clouds of pollen and dust that arose as he sat and the skittering of possums underneath. Above him the sky roiled, stars occasionally appearing before disappearing behind the thick clouds of the worse magic storm he had seen since the Transcendence had happened. Mabel had fussed at him about going outside but he also knew she hated the smell of his cigars. And besides it’d only be a few minutes….

He looked down to light his cigar, fumbling in the dark to get the end to catch.

When he looked up again, a demon stood in front of him.

Without taking his eyes off the being, Stan reached his free arm out to the rickety card table Mabel had left out earlier and grabbed his glass of bourbon from it. The demon watched impassively as Stan took a drink, and then a deep pull from his cigar.

Stan exhaled, blowing a thick cloud of acrid smoke in the air, and said “How long you going to keep staring kid?”

The demon said nothing, a figure of black and gold tracing. There was no evidence of clothing, no facial features or accessories. Only a black so deep and dark it hurt Stan’s eyes to glimpse for too long, the only detail a brick like tracing of burning gold.

The same gold that burned from the two pits in the demon’s face, the pits that were firmly locked on the heartbeat thudding from Stan’s throat. A slit appeared, grew wider and opened up until it became a mouth. For the first time Stan saw the demon’s teeth, a front row of fangs backed by a second, longer, more serrated set that had torn though the roof of the demon’s mouth.

An impossibly long and thin tongue flopped out, the end split in two like a snake. It kissed the air, licked the golden pits before snapping back into the mouth.

“H̺̮̦͟u̺̰̩n̷̼̹͕̣̮̫̣g̯̲͔͓r̖̥̩͇̹y͚̯͙̞,” the demon finally said.

Stan blew another puff of smoke and pointed with his cigar behind him into the Shack.

“There’s still a pot of beans on the stove from dinner…”

**“͖͓́N̢̰̺̻̪͇ o͕̖̳͜!͇̠”**

The force of the demon’s words blew the fez off Stan’s head and sent it down the crack of no return that existed between the sofa and the wall of the Shack. Power beat on the air, emanating from the demon, raising the hair on Stan’s arms and neck and making his heart begin to beat irregularly. “Nǫ̵t͘… ͘͟H̷͠͠u͏̴n͟g̸̢r̡͡y͏ ͜for͠ ́ _th̕͢a̢͏̴t.”_

His cigar went out but rather than relight it Stan tucked it in his breast pocket for later. He still had a mostly full glass of bourbon after all.

“Just went shopping. There’s stuff on the shelves.” He almost said “go nuts” but caught himself in time.

The ozone that Stan had been smelling all evening was gone, the immense waves of magic that had been invisibly buffeting the Shack now sucked up and flowing instead into the demon. Even as he swayed under the onslaught, his hands lit up with blue fire, the blue that could burn bone and glass.

“Let’s… _Want_ … Want ̵t҉o̵ ma̴k̷e ̛a ́déal?” the demon rasped. His eyes were still locked on Stan’s throat, and Stan had a pretty good idea what the demon was really hungry for.

Another sip of bourbon. “You know, your sister is still unpacking upstairs. Mabel could use your help setting up you two’s room.”

At Mabel’s name the demon froze completely still, the shock apparent even to Stan.

“I… Want…” The demon’s voice faltered. Stan looked at his watch. Thirty more seconds. He looked back up in the demon’s eyes.

“She’d like that, Dipper.”

The clouds disappeared from the sky as quickly as they had come in that morning, the storm and spell broken. Color and features began to flood across the black surface, revealing the figure of his nephew. His eyes were last to return to normal, one last flash of terrible, unending hunger before Dipper was in control again.

“Grunkle Stan I’m so sorry-I, I didn’t mean-I’ll just go now-”

Stan waved a hand at him. “No, stay, it’s okay, I promise.”

Dipper, who had begun to fade away, returned fully to Stan’s sight. “Really?”

Stan snorted. “Please. I’ve been in much scarier situations than that. Trust me.”

Dipper stared at him for a second.

“What, do I got something on my shirt? You’d let me know right?”

“You’re… You’re not lying,” Dipper replied, a note of awe in his voice.

“Course I’m not. Now get your ass inside, I’m getting cold out here.”

Stan stood up to go inside. As he opened the door, he turned to look and saw Dipper standing forlornly in the lawn.

“What’s the hold up?”

“Stan! I lost control! I could have killed you. I-” He looked down to the ground, and he looked so impossibly young to Stan. “I could have done worse to you.”

Stan sighed. “Yes you could have but you didn’t.” Dipper still didn’t move so Stan went on.

“Look kid when I said you two could move in I meant it. This is your-” he struggled to talk through the pesky lump in his throat. “This is your home now, thick or thin, good or bad. You’re family, and family sticks together.”

(It didn’t, not really, not with his parents and not with the twin’s parents, but Stan would be goddamned if he proved that false for the kids.)

Dipper smiled. It was the first time Stan had seen Dipper smile since they arrived two days ago. “Thanks Grunkle Stan.” He floated past Stan into the house and up the stairs. As Stan closed the door he could hear Mabel’s excited yelp and a flurry of words from her.

Stan smiled.

Then he went to the kitchen, drained his glass of bourbon, poured another glass, and drained that one as well.

Fuck that had been close.


	221. Chapter 221

They didn’t do cards on Father’s Day. Never wished Stan a “Happy Father’s Day” or got him presents. Mark was the kids’ father after all, not him. And it wasn’t like… what the kids had with his nephew was nothing like what living with his dad was like.

Mark, for better or worse, still loved them.

(Had he even ever heard Dad tell Ma that he loved her even? Stan’s memory was shit but he really, _really_ doubted that that had ever occurred.)

But.

—-

**What Stan Did Not Tell His Nephew:**

-“If you’re going to throw them away like trash then I’ll take them in.”

-“Fuck off.”

-“You’re the dad, you don’t get to pussy out and not _deal_ with this-“

-“Fuck off.”

-“Did you learn nothing from your mom, from your uncle and your grandpa and me, come the _fuck on Mark._ ”

-“Did I tell you to go fuck yourself? No. Okay, go fuck yourself.”

-“I’m sorry.”

**What Stan Did Tell His Nephew:**

-“So can you throw some cash my way if I’m taking the brats in? Food costs money, yanno?”

—

He hoped the guy, gal, or otherwise Mabel brought home could cook because she sure as shit couldn’t.

Mabel bought edible glitter- from where, he had no idea, because he knew Dipper wasn’t giving it to her through a deal and the store didn’t sell it- and used handfuls in every meal she made. Same went for the sprinkles that you put on top of cupcakes and ice cream. Mabel loved to mix weird things together, like steak and chocolate syrup, just to see what would happen. There would be weeks where Mabel got hooked on a certain taste, and would just make the same thing over and over and over again.

Stan, if he was being honest, couldn’t cook worth a damn either, but at least his food was dependable damnit. And when it wasn’t, there was always Greasy’s.

Yet the June after the kids came to live with him, he came down from his room one Sunday to find a big bowl of mashed potatoes, a turkey, some weird green things that were _probably_ Brussel sprouts, and two faces looking at him worriedly.

Dinner was okay, he had better.

That dinner was one of the best meals of his life.

—

The first Father’s Day after Stan left (was kicked out) ( _left_ ) was spent getting drunk and throwing the bottles at the brick wall of a gas station in the middle of nowhere Tennessee until the manager had finally had enough and chased him away waving a shot gun.

The twenty fourth Father’s Day after Filbrick threw him away was a call and an emotionless voice letting Stanford know that his Ma had passed away, asking if he could spare some of his smarty pants genius money for the funeral.

The fourth Father’s Day after Stan was kicked out (left) was spent with a guy he met in the Castro, quickly moving from the alley to the Stanmobile and ending in the rowhouse Tandy shared with five or six other guys. The look on Ford’s face as he turned away from him standing in the street, the final glare of light off his father’s glasses as he turned his back on Stan…. it didn’t seem as important, not with Tandy’s lips on his, on other parts of him.

It wasn’t enough, it would never be enough, but for tonight it was.

—

Stan looked in the rearview mirror at the two girls sitting in his backseat.

Due to an incident involving Dipper, four cows, half the football team, and an ill-advised quiche, prom had to be rescheduled until the next time the Gravity Falls Community Center was free, which was the third Sunday in June.

In the mirror, Pacifica, dressed in a ballgown that took up most of the backseat, looked down to see Mabel’s hand carelessly on hers. Even with his shit eyesight, Stan knew that she was blushing.

In the mirror, Mabel, in a dress of her own making that included a pretty rock she found in the creek last week and beaded portraits of Dipper and their friends, beaming like the sun as he drove them towards Senior Prom.

When he pulled up, there was a photobooth outside taking advantage of the summer light. The marquee read “Daddy and Me!” Weird hokey shit which seriously didn’t even make since because the majority of the people here were with boyfriends or girlfriends or fri-

“Come on Stan!”

Stan started. He hadn’t even noticed the girls getting out of the car. (Getting old, Stan, getting _slow_ )

“Uh, pretty sure you told me this wasn’t going to cost any money kid.”

Mabel laughed.

“No silly! I want my picture with you!”

Stan froze. What to say, come on come on what to say-

He said nothing.

He got out of the car, and was thankful he still had his suit on from the day as Mabel dragged him over to the photo booth, Pacifica trailing along amusedly.

—

**Times Mark and Anna Called Per Week:**

-Twice, always without fail on Wednesdays and Sundays

**Average Time the Calls Lasted:**

-five to seven minutes

(not that Stan was keeping track or anything. He appreciated their effort.

Really

He did.)

—-

Dipper was the same boy he always knew, a smart aleck know-it-all with noodle arms who never bathed and was painfully dorky at times.

Dipper was a boy, still a boy no matter how much he and his sister argued that they were big and bad teenagers now, and he was a demon. Dipper was so young and he had done things that made even Stan want to hurl and _liked_ them.

Dipper and the random deer and cow carcasses that showed up on their front lawn during lean months when the Shack wasn’t bringing in any money.

Dipper and a random slap on the back that would dispel the nagging cough or back pain Stan was having that day.

A demon covered in blood and darkness scrambling on his lap in a way that Dipper would have never done Before and Stan said nothing, only wrapped his arms around his bo- his nephew.

(A gold piece and a tooth left under his pillow one June morning.)

—

But.

But parents who only saw them four times a year.

But three beautiful redheaded miracles (and he knew, Stan knew he was being sappy as fuck, but he was too old to care any more) and the day they looked at him as one and said “Grandpa!”

But in giving two lost kids a home getting one himself.

But the third Sunday in June.


	222. Chapter 222

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Promt: Wendy visits Hank for the first time"
> 
> This uh, got really long. TW/CW for child abuse and homophobic language.

Albert and Virginia Corduroy both came from a long line of loggers, builders, alcoholics and brawlers. They had nine children together; there would have been more had Mother Corduroy not put her foot down after birthing her youngest left her at death’s door. There was Little Al, Curtis, John, Rene, Ed, Lake, Dan, Bertina, and Arnold.

The only reason Wendy knew all of this was that every year Dad insisted on dragging them to the family reunion.

It used to not be such a big deal. They’d go, they’d not go, it was whatever. But ever since… Ever since Mom’s humvee hit the IED, they went every year, no questions asked.

As they pulled into Mother Corduroy’s old house (now Aunt Bertie’s), Wendy wasn’t sure what Dad expected to get from this. All his siblings were kind of dicks. Some of them- Aunt Bertie, Uncle Lake- were better than the others, but that honestly wasn’t saying much.

She looked at her dad, as her brothers hooted and hollered and poured out of the bed of the truck.

It should be Mom sitting here, Mom sitting in the front seat with Dad and her in the truck bed with the boys. She shouldn’t have to be the one the keep the house running, to have Big Talks with her dad.

There was a lot of things that shouldn’t be but were.

Wendy blew out a sigh. “You gonna tell them today?”

The steering wheel creaked threateningly for a second as her dad squeezed it hard. Then he nodded, slowly.

“Yes,” he replied and Wendy knew half the town would be surprised to hear him talk in anything less of a roar. But then they didn’t know all of her Dad, not like her or her brothers.

And not, she thought with a smile, Tyler.

Twelve and angry, she didn’t understand at first, didn’t understand why Dad wanted to replace Mom with someone new. Resented Tyler’s never ending well of cheeriness and optimism.

Sixteen and far wiser, she had grown to love Tyler. The boys- Bert, Fred, and Little Lake- adored him and called him Daddo. She couldn’t quite bring herself to say that but Tyler was a cool dude. He helped do her hair on the rare occasions she had it up, cooked amazing meals, and was better than Dad at fixing up their truck. He calmed Dad down, made Dad laugh. For the first time since Mom had died, she had been able to relax a little in her own home.

There was a ring in the pocket of her Dad’s overalls. He hadn’t said anything about it but she found it when it was her turn to do laundry last month. She had just smiled and left it on his night stand. It was about time.

Just like, she realized with a sinking feeling in her stomach, it was time to tell the family.

If it were her, she wouldn’t say a damn thing. This mass of cousins and uncles and aunts and Gary, she and her family owed them nothing. Wendy knew today was going to go to shit as soon as Dad made his announcement, knew that only Aunt Bertie would stand by her Dad. Dad didn’t need this in his life. All the things Dad had done for them, none of it would matter to them once he said something she knew it. She-

Wendy looked outside of the truck. Her dad was by the driver door, frozen. Wendy sighed and stepped out of the truck. She laid her hand on Dad’s arm, and he started.

“Come on Dad, let’s go.” She cocked her head at a scream. “Lake’s found the pool.”

“I told your grandma that pool’d be nothing but trouble. Pools attract trouble. And gnomes.”

Dad said that every time they came to Mother Corduroy’s house, and every time Wendy just nodded and made agreeing noises. But he was moving now, walking towards the house and the noise and-

“How am I going to tell them?” Dad asked balefully. Wendy stiffened. This was so past her pay grade, she should be up ahead pushing the boys into the pool but-

There were a lot of things that shouldn’t be but were.

She patted her Dad on the back. “Maybe just like, drop it casually in conversation. Ease people into it.”

Dad grunted. Well, she tried.

They came up to the big open backyard, unfenced, overgrown, and packed with big burly redheads. Wendy felt her heart ping a bit. She missed Mom and she missed Mother Corduroy. The older she got the more she realized that Mother Corduroy and Peepaw were terrible parents. But despite that, Mother Corduroy had been a terrific grandmother. Probably helped in Wendy’s case, she had to admit, that Wendy was her only granddaughter in a sea of grandsons and great-grandsons. A drink in her hand and biting wit, Mother Corduroy had made these things bearable-

“Wendy! Wendy Blerble Corduroy! Come over here right now!”

Wendy’s blood froze. Only one woman would be presumptuous enough to use her full name like that. As she scanned the crowd to see where the voice had come from, her heart sank as her suspicions were confirmed. It was Aunt Rita. And if Aunt Rita was here that meant Uncle Arnold was too.

Despite the summer heat Wendy shivered a bit. Her uncles were dicks. Uncle Rene aimed for the deer on the road, Uncle Ed never tipped, and Uncle Al stared at her boobs one year until she told Dad and Dad had punched him but Uncle Arnold? Uncle Arnold was mean. She wasn’t bothered about her mass of cousins, all of whom she had thoroughly intimidated and terrified by the age of seven and her uncles were honestly just annoying.

Arnold scared her.

“Wendy! I am your elder and you will obey me! Come here right now.”

She blew out her breath. Wendy had been doing some reading for the last year or two, and she had come to dislike the frequent use of the word ‘bitch’ in a derogatory term, based as it was on society’s flawed expectation of women. She was trying to cut it out of her vocabulary.

That being said, she still couldn’t help but think that her Aunt Rita was a mean spirited bitch with a raisin for a soul.

—----

As expected, while the rest of the family was outside enjoying the sun, the pool, and smoking as many cigarettes as they wanted without fucking up Aunt Bertie’s carpets, Aunt Rita had dragged the few girls of the family inside and ensconced them in the kitchen. Rita must have seen her through the kitchen window and… Yup, there she was leaning out. Wendy groaned and started to walk over. She had had the displeasure of meeting Aunt Rita and Uncle Arnold only two or three times. Some reunions they didn’t come and until recently it was the same for Wendy’s family. The times they came however, Rita always forced the girls into staying in the kitchen all day to help her cook and listen to her complain and spew hate.

Really, the only reason Rita got away with it was because Wendy’s other aunts let her. Wendy knew that they all to a woman spiked their drinks when Rita wasn’t looking and mercilessly mocked Rita behind her back for the rest of the year. Her aunts really weren’t much better than Rita, when Wendy thought about it.

The only woman who had ever stood up to Rita was her mom. Seeing every one of her aunts sullenly sitting in the room, it looked like if anyone was going to take a stand and have a chance at pool time it was going to have to be her.

She choked back the growl in her throat. The sixteen year old shouldn’t have to be more mature than a bunch of middle aged women. Rita shouldn’t be making that weird tuna casserole that made the whole house reek and no one ever ate. There were a lot of things that shouldn’t be but were.

“Hi Aunt Rita,” Wendy said, trying to keep her voice as even as possible.

Rita looked up from mixing canned tuna and horseradish together. “Oh, I see that you finally showed up. I called you for five minutes; next time you come when I call or else.”

Okay. It was going to be like that was it?

Wendy folded her arms. “Or else what?”

Aunt Gigi, Uncle Al’s wife, actually went “OOOOOOOOO,” but since Gigi was only 23 (and Uncle Al’s fifth wife) it wasn’t too surprising.

Rita blushed, but then rallied. “I will tell your father about your disgraceful and unproper behavior.”

Wendy raised an eyebrow. “Dad and everyone else are currently having a tree punching contest outside. I really doubt that he cares about propriety.” “Or me listening to you,” Wendy added in her head, “considering I practically run the house and take care of the boys.” But that was her ace in the hole.

Now it was Aunt Luann, married to Uncle John and one of the older aunts in the room, who let out a snort.

“I’m sure he’ll listen to my Arnold. He has to,” Rita said, sugar sweet.

A shiver went down Wendy’s spine but she went on. “I don’t think so,” Wendy replied. “Dad’s older than Uncle Arnold.”

At that Rita went bright red. She was concerned more about birth order and dominance and who had to listen to who more than any of the actual Corduroys. It was silly but it was something Wendy could use against her.

Her aunts had by this point dropped all pretense of ‘working’ and were shamelessly looking at her and Rita, listening to their argument. For a second Wendy almost saw red; she shouldn’t have to be doing this, these grown ass women should have been stepping in, standing up for her, doing anything else than just gawking.

(There were a lot of things that shouldn’t be but were.)

Rita smiled, and switched tactics.

“You know, it’s really a shame about your mother dear.”

This time, Wendy did see red, but she did her best to remain outwardly calm. Patience, patience… If she could survive the Technicolor Apocalypse she could manage one sad and petty woman.

“I know,” Wendy neutrally agreed. “But she died serving our country so I try and remember her sacrifice.”

(Wendy hated that line, hated every fucking person that told her that at the funeral, told her that next to the coffin that only held bits of her Mom. She didn’t give a shit about sacrifice or America or honor or any of it. None of it took away that her Mom was dead, was gone, was blown to tiny pieces….. But Rita didn’t need to know any of that. Calm, Wendy, calm-)

“Yes well, it’s a shame she didn’t teach you to be a lady before she left,” Rita tittered. “You are a most ungrateful and ungraceful child. Far too uppity.”

Wendy drew herself up, Corduroy strong and tall. “Mom taught me the important things, like standing up for what you believe in, taking care of the ones you love, and jumping out the back of a truck.”

“Well sweetie,” and Rita’s voice was like candy like rat poison under the sink, “Your mother didn’t know her place. No wonder she put so many silly thoughts in your head. I always thought she was too fast for this family.” Rita tittered. “Doing man’s work like that. No wonder she got herself killed. It was providence.”

The room froze. Wendy knew the aunties viewed her more or less as part of the large redheaded mass of children running around; the only aunt she actually talked to on a regular basis was Aunt Bertie. Everyone else could take or leave her.

But everyone had loved her mom.

There was a shuffle as Marty, Uncle Curtis’ wife and the oldest aunt, slowly got up from her chair.

“You’re not going to say another word about April, Rita,” Marty rasped, voice almost destroyed from her four pack a day habit.

Rita flushed. As much as Rita may have wanted otherwise, there was one matriarch in the Corduroy family, and it wasn’t her.

But if there was one thing Aunt Rita was, it was stubborn, so she rallied.

“Martine, my sister, come now. We were all thinking it when April said she was going to join the Air Force-”

Aunt Marty snorted, then leaned over the sink to hawk some phlegm in, accidentally on purpose hitting the strainer of noodles Rita had left in there.

“Bullshit Rita. You were just upset because April had the balls to go out and do something with her life instead of clean her house over and over again and snipe at everyone around her.”

“I… How dare you!”

Marty turned to look at Wendy. “Go on outside and play girl,” she said like Wendy was six, not sixteen. “We will handle this.”

Wendy gave the biggest shit eating grin she could pull at Rita, and walked out of the kitchen.

She had forgotten that Aunt Marty was pretty cool too, even if she smelt like a tobacco farm.

—-----

After that shit show the next hour or two was… Boring. Like, even more boring than her job at the Shack before the twins came or finishing the SOT early and having to sit in a desk unable to read or sleep for the entire day.

She wanted to go into the pool but unfortunately everyone else had the same idea and it was less a pool now and more of a soup with too many hairy redheads to even move or breathe in it. Putting the fear of God back into her cousins took all of two minutes which was no fun at all- seriously, one arm twist and that was all it took? Perhaps she had done her job too well in past reunions. She could talk with the cousins her age but all they seemed to be stuck on was how many girls they had bagged (actual number: 0), how many beers they drank that weekend (total between 17 cousins: 2.5 beers then puking) and cars. She would have gone to play with the kids but her brothers were having so much fun for once at this damn thing… Wendy didn’t want to ruin that with their big sister crashing the party-

She ran into her Dad, who was looking mournfully into his can of Bud.

“Tell them yet?” she asked as she draped her arms around his shoulders in a hug. He hadn’t-Wendy would know once the shouting started, but there was no sense in encouraging any more bad feelings on Dad’s part.

He rolled the empty can in between his massive hands.

“No. I’m… I’m not a coward!”

Wendy smiled sadly, and made a note to talk about toxic masculinity with the boys soon. “I know you’re not, Dad.”

“I just…” He looked down. Even with Tyler, feelings were hard for her Dad. “Don’t have the words Wendo.”

Wendy sighed. This really was above her paygrade.

She motioned at the can in dad’s hand.

“Why don’t you have a few more of those, loosen up a bit?”

He silently motioned at the beer can pyramid behind him.

“Then go get Aunt Bertie’s stash of shine out from the shed, you know she made a batch for the reunion.”

Dad smiled, and reached under her hat to tostle her hair.

“You’re a good kid Wendo.”

“I know I am. Oh hey, I’m going out to walk in the woods for a bit.”

Her Dad raised an eyebrow at her. “Piss off those biddies in the kitchen?”

“One of them anyway.”

They both knew exactly who she was talking about.

“Good!” Dad made shooing gestures with his hands. “Go on, get. I don’t want you back until you smell fire or you’re covered in ticks. Blow some stink off you girlie.”

Wendy grinned. It was stressful, her life, but when it came down to it, Dad got her. “Thanks Dad.”

She had walked all of three steps before her Dad bellowed “WAIT!”

Wendy turned around, and waggled her axe at Dad. “Got it Dad.”

Her father merely nodded and grunted at her before heading towards the shed.

—----

The forest was boring too, to be honest, but it was a boring where she was wandering and exploring and doing her own thing so she’d take it.

It was still boring walking through lots and lots of trees, so she was considering picking one at random and chopping it down when she ran into the boy.

Literally.

She bounced off of him and fell onto the ground, taken completely off guard.

Wendy looked up… and continued to look up at him. Super tall, and a crown of red hair, and on Aunt Bertie’s land-

“Are you a Corduroy?”

The boy blushed and that was a first. Usually Wendy could only get her cousins to blush when she burst their bubbles over things like their supposed knowledge of female anatomy and how many lumberjack competitions they had actually won.

“Uh, yeah, but look, I’m sorry I ran into you I should have been looking-“

Wendy held up her hands. “Whoa, whoa dude, it’s okay, I ran into you.” She ran a hand through her hair and blew out her breath.

“Look, let’s try again. I’m Wendy, Dan’s oldest.” She held out a hand to shake. “And you?”

The boy took it. “Um, I’m Henry. I’m, uh, Arnold’s kid.”

They stared at each other for a minute. Wendy could already tell he wasn’t like her other cousins. He had the family height but not the family bulk, spindly and gangly where all her family was brawny and thick. He had on thick lensed glasses, held together only by massive amounts of tape at the bridge and arms. There was a fading bruise around his arm she had spotted as his shirt sleeve briefly lifted up, and he winced when he turned and moved his stomach.

He was quiet.

“So I’ve never seen you at one of these before. This your first time?”

Henry nodded. “Mom and Dad usually leave me at home. They don’t want me to embarrass them and…” Henry trailed off, blushing beet red at his inadvertent admission.

Well fuck. What was she supposed to do with _that_?

“What brings you out then for the first time?” Wendy asked and then immediately regretted it.

He looked down. “Um, it was my birthday yesterday, and Dad thought it was time for me to, uh, ‘be a man.’ So he and Rene and Al and John took me to-“

Wendy didn’t think it was possible for Henry to blush any redder but he somehow managed it. “A club. With um, dancing. Like, you know?”

Oh. Oh god she did. This made that awful story Uncle John was sharing about “family night at Twin Peakz” even worse now. Especially since she was looking at the ‘lucky birthday man’ in person and oh, god, poor Henry.

What her new found cousin needed, Wendy decided, was a good distraction.

“Dude, want to climb a tree and throw pebbles at people?”

“I’m not sure that that’s a good idea. We’ll probably get caught-“

Wendy snorted. “No we’re good. Dad got out Aunt Bertie’s shine twenty minutes ago. Trust me, no one is going to be able to think straight enough to look for us.”

Henry smiled, for the first time since she had met him. He had a sweet, gentle smile.

And, she realized a few minutes later, he could really shimmy up a tree.

She handed him a pebble from her hastily gathered collection in her breast pocket and pointed down to the guests in the yard below.

“Dude, aim for the bald guy.”

“Uncle Lake? But he’s-“

“Not a dick? Yeah I know, but also he’s like, the perfect target with that big old dome.” She shoulder bumped him.

“C’mon, just one little pebble-“

Henry threw the pebble and expertly beaned Uncle Lake on the head. Uncle Lake, bottle of whisky in hand, immediately looked the opposite way from them and began screaming at the ‘goddamned eyebats.’ Wendy and Henry burst into laughter, especially as Uncle Ed started screaming back at Lake that his breath stunk.

Wendy went to throw another pebble but a gentle yet strong grip stayed her hand.

“Wait for it,” Henry said. Below Uncle John and Uncle Curtis had joined the argument, and they were growing loud enough to start attracting everyone’s attention. Henry was watching intently, like a hawk, even as Uncle Al waded in and began to shout at everyone indiscriminately.

“Give me a pebble please and be ready to throw at my signal.”

Thoroughly intrigued and with an idea where this was going, Wendy did so. By now everyone but their dads were in the fray, the argument having devolved into decades long feuds and quibbles.

“Annnnd- now!”

Henry beaned Uncle Lake again just as he was gesturing with his glass of shine, causing it to spill all over Uncle John. Wendy got her pebble, which was particularly big, into Uncle Ed’s glass. The alcohol splashed all over him, and Uncle Rene next to them. In seconds punches began flying, and the entire lawn devolved into a brawl, with the adult cousins quickly joining in and the younger ones standing back and chanting “Dad, Dad!”

Wendy looked on in awe at the chaos Henry had unleashed.

“Dude, that’s-”

He flinched back from her for a second before he caught himself. “Was that okay?” Henry asked nervously.

Wendy laughed and slapped Henry on the back. “That was genius man!”

“Um, thanks?”

Wendy squinted.

“Dude, Aunt Bertie is finishing the first round of hamburgers-lets go before everyone else notices.”

—---

Between hamburgers, finding the old storehouse on the creek, and showing Henry cat videos, it didn’t take long for Wendy to decide that Henry was definitely her favorite cousin. That wasn’t probably saying much because the rest of her cousins were pretty boring, but Henry?

Henry was sweet. Henry took regular baths. Henry was nice. Henry had read out his school library twice over.

And Henry was scared shitless of his parents.

She could tell it in the way he looked around before telling her about the book he had snuck with him to the reunion. The weird circular scars on his face, long sleeves and knee high socks under his jeans even though it was unseasonably hot. How Henry flinched at every snapping branch underfoot, at raised voices; and the immediate schooling of his face and demeanor afterwards, a weakness that couldn’t be shown. The slight awe he had of the way she so easily and carelessly dismissed their uncles, the way she spoke about Dad.

He didn’t seem to have many friends. He didn’t seem to have any friends at all. It looked like to Wendy that the only people who really interacted with Henry were Aunt Rita and Uncle Arnold.

It was horrifying. It was terrible. Someone as wonderful as Henry shouldn’t have to be stuck with people as Arnold and Rita.

(There were a lot of things that shouldn’t be but were.)

It was high time, Wendy decided, to broaden Henry’s world.

As they came out of the woods again, Wendy spotted her Dad sitting in a lawn chair, the cheap plastic wobbling under his weight. He had a little knife and a hunk of wood in his hand; Dad always liked to whittle when he was drunk. (Well, sober too, but the drunk carvings were always interesting, if not spotted with blood.)

She grabbed Henry’s hand.

“Hey dude you should come meet my Dad!”

Henry turned sheet white and internally Wendy cursed. Too fast, too fast. Henry was like one of the wild songbirds that Mom used to feed out of her hand; they were shy, scared and skittish at first. They needed patience and time.

“Dad… Uncle Dan… He’s not like the others, I promise.” She gently began to pull Henry towards her Dad, and he let her.

Dad looked up blearily as they approached.

“Dad, this is Henry.” She paused. “Arnold and Rita’s son?” Come on Dad, get the hint, maybe tone down some of your Dadness…

Dad smiled and waved, albeit crookedly. “Hey there. Last time I saw you, you were still in diapers. Even changed a few of them when your Ma weren’t looking.”

“Really?”

Dad nodded, and winked at Wendy when Henry was quickly distracted by a noise from the pool.

“Oh yeah. Had practice from Wendo over here and none of those Nellies-” he waved at his brothers- “were going to do it.”

Henry spotted the knife and wood in Dan’s hand. “You whittle?”

Dad nodded. “Yup. Been doin so since I was a boy.”

“Wow. I’ve always wanted to try but Dad caught me once and…. Um. Yeah I don’t.”

A shadow passed over her Dad’s face, and he pointed over to the pile of firewood behind him.

“Well it’s never too late to learn boy. I got an extra knife; you grab you a wood chunk and we can get started.”

Henry remained where he was.

“But Dad, if Dad sees me he’ll-”

“Your Dad’s helping dress some deer Lake caught. He’s going to be awhile, and I’ll keep an eye out.”

Henry smiled tenuously. “O… Okay.”

“I’ll leave you crazy kids to it,” Wendy said with a wink, and went off to give them some space.

When she walked by twenty minutes later, Dad was telling Henry all about Tyler in quiet tones and halting words. Henry, for the first time today, didn’t start or even seem to notice her as she walked by.

She grinned. Success.

—----

It was too good to last. It always was, it always would be, and inevitably things went wrong as they always did.

(Well that’s a bunch of poop, a voice in her head that sounded like Mabel said, and Wendy tried to heed it.)

But one minute she and Henry had stepped into the basement to get some sodas, the next Uncle Arnold had come out of nowhere and pinned Henry against the wall with one arm.

“What the  _fuck_  Uncle Arnold?”

He didn’t hear her, instead electing to shake Henry like a rag doll.

“What did I tell you? What did I tell you about embarrassing me in front of everyone?”

Henry caught her eyes for a second. The mixture of shame and fear she saw there was something she never, ever wanted to see again. Gone was her wonderful, sweet cousin. All that was left of Henry now was blind calculation and naked fear, a boy trying his best to survive.

Henry didn’t answer fast enough for Arnold, who drew his arm back and slammed Henry against the wall again.

“What did I  _say_ boy?”

“Not… Not to do it,” Henry uttered quietly.

“Then where were you all afternoon? Why were you hanging out with that fruit instead of helping me?”

“I just was talking with Uncle Dan, I didn’t know you needed me…” His tones were quiet, defeated, telling the truth because regardless of the truth or a lie or an apology he was going to get beat anyway.

Wendy had had enough. For lack of a better thing to throw, she took off one of her thick, heavy work boots, and chucked it at Arnold’s head. It hit him squarely in the center, and he immediately dropped Henry to the ground to turn and look at her.

“Girl, this ain’t your business,” Arnold growled. “Go on and get.”

“Dude, you made it my fucking business when you started beating your son in front of me; like seriously, what the fuck dude?” Behind Arnold, Henry was rapidly shaking his head and making shush motions with his hands. Wendy almost faltered. She knew that sometimes intervention lead to worse abuse afterwards, knew that this might very well make things worse for Henry.

But she was not, would not, could not be the kind of woman that sat by and let this happen. She would not be complacent and blind like the rest of her family. There were a lot of things that shouldn’t be but were, but for here and now, she was putting a stop to this.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about brat; this don’t concern you.”

“You made it my concern. Now get out of the basement and leave Henry alone.”

Arnold stepped over to her, looming over her with his extra foot of height and 200 pounds. He laid a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. It hurt, it was definitely going to bruise, but she continued to stoically look at him.

“I can see Dan ruined you, just like he’s going to ruin his boys. Now leave before I give you the same medicine that piece of shit over there is gonna get.”

Wendy stood up on her tiptoes, the better to bark a laugh in Arnold’s big dumb stupid face. She survived a haunted convenience store, high school lunches, and the literal apocalypse. She had rode eyebats in battle, saw her best friend dissolve into flame and screaming, and worse, saw what he had to come back as. She took care of her brothers, she took care of her dad, and she was still pulling B’s in all of her classes. She was Wendy Blerble Corduroy and she would not be intimidated by this…. This… This really bad dude, she’d think of an insult later, insults were kind of hard at times.

Some spit must have gotten on his face (good) because he staggered back slightly in shock, almost dazedly wiping his cheek. Wendy took the opportunity to unbutton her axe. Obviously she wasn’t going to go Lizzie Borden up in here but she had no objections to laying into Arnold with the flat of her blade or the butt of the handle.

Arnold’s face darkened.

“You’re going to pay for that girl.” Arnold raised his fist and Wendy grabbed the handle of her axe.

A large meaty hand grabbed Arnold’s fist, quickly twisting it and the attached arm painfully behind Arnold’s back.

“You ain’t doin shit Arnie, except leaving these kids alone.”

There was only one other time in her life she had been more glad to hear the sound of her father’s voice.

Wendy grinned, wide and nasty. “Hey Daddy.”

Arnold shrugged Dad off, and Dad let him for now, moving instead to stand in front of Henry. The movement didn’t go unnoticed by Arnold, whose scowl somehow deepened even further.

“I told your chit, this ain’t none of your concern Dan.”

Dad raised an eyebrow, a habit he had picked up from Tyler. “You made it my concern when I come down here to see you threatening my daughter and nephew.” Dad blew out a long breath, breathed in again, and Wendy knew he was trying to keep his calm. “Let’s just go upstairs and forget about this okay? Bertie and Rita got dessert on the table.”

Henry, as unobtrusively as he could, started going towards the stairs, and Arnold wheeled on him, a meaty fist raised.

“You take orders from  _me,_  not that fag uncle of yours.”

The room went still.

The last time Wendy felt stillness like this, there was a giant bleeding tear in the sky and the whole world had gone darkish orange and completely fucked up.

Her Dad was frozen in a way that Wendy had seen him do before he went after a bear in the backyard or something else really stupid and dangerous. And speaking of stupid, Uncle Arnold wasn’t getting that hint since he kept going on.

“Do you want to be soft Henry? Do you want to grow up and be weak? Be _nothing_  like your Uncle?” Arnold reached in his pocket and grabbed out a small piece of wood that Wendy quickly recognized as what Henry was whittling with Dad earlier. He chucked it at Henry and despite Dad trying to block it, it hit Henry square in the face. It drew blood as it hit, trickling down Henry’s cheek.

Wendy had faced down ghosts, her double trying to murder her, and interdimensional criminal masterminds, but nothing prepared her for the sheer malice, the utter disgust and hatred she saw on Arnold’s face as he looked at her son.

Even worse, was that Henry just looked… resigned. Like he had heard this and what was to come a hundred thousand times before.

Arnold pointed a sausage like finger at Henry, even as her Dad moved closer to Henry, covering as much of her cousin’s body with his own as he could.

“You’re _nothing_ to me boy. You ain’t even the dirt under my feet. You should have just died coming out of your momma.” The finger moved towards her Dad. “And  _you_ -“

Arnold’s back was now fully turned on her. She fingered the handle of her axe again; she could try her best to knock him out. Dad saw her move and gently shook his head as subtly as he could. Okay, sign, Dad had it in hand.

She left her hand there anyway, just in case.

“ _You_ were Dad’s favorite. _You_ were supposed to be the best of all of us Dan! And what do you do instead? You marry some crazy ass bitch, and then become some… some… some dirty cocksucker.” Arnold shook his head. “Dad warned me, before he died, that he thought you were a fag, but I didn’t believe him. But then I saw you with that… that… that twink in town yesterday, holding _hands.”_ Arnold spat on the floor. “You disgust me.”

Wendy could see her Dad shaking from anger, but his voice stayed cool as he said, “Fine, I’m a dirty cocksucker. Don’t really see what that has to do with beating the shit out of your son.”

“Dad should have beat you, beat the filth out of you, but no, not you, you were a _real_ Corduroy. He didn’t see the rot until it was too late.” Arnold turned a bit to catch Henry’s eyes from behind Dad. “Henry, stop being a pussy and hiding behind this fag like a coward. You come and face me and get your medicine _now._ ”

Unbidden, Wendy noted the baseball bats and hockey sticks Aunt Bertie had down here, from when her boys were in sports. The knives for skinning animals. How large Arnold’s fists were. How scared, how broken Henry looked.

Dad must have had the same thought because he took a step backwards to shield Henry even more with his body. “You ain’t touching your boy any more tonight Arnie. Now get back upstairs.”

Arnold only roared and launched a fist at Dad. Dad once again caught it easily.

“You ain’t fought in your weight class for the last twenty years. It’s easy to win when they’re smaller than you and can’t fight back.” Dad shook his head and Arnold only went redder. “Only thing you’ve hit all these years is your boy; don’t deny it, I go to the same camps as you, I hear the stories.” Arnold tried to barrel into Dad, to knock him down, but Dad easily sidestepped him, letting Arnold instead run into the wall. Arnold got up and threw himself again at Dad. Dad caught him and used Arnold’s momentum to swing him around and throw him once again back in the wall.

(And why hadn’t anyone come down to inspect what all the noise was? Oh yeah, it’s because they were Corduroys and minded their own business and they knew, they fucking _knew_ what Arnold would be doing to Henry and they didn’t come down to _stop_ it and fuck, fuck she hated her family sometimes….)

Arnold sat up, briefly clutching his head, before shaking it like a dog and getting the rest of the way up.

“Stop being a coward and _fight_ me Dan!”

Dad smiled. It was the nastiest, meanest smile she had ever seen on her Dad’s face, and even though it was aimed at Arnold, Wendy still shivered a bit to see it.

“I only fight real men Arnie, not sad little boys who never grew up and got past the chip on their shoulders.”

For a third time Arnold threw himself at Dad, screaming now with wordless rage. Instead of catching him like before, Dad punched him square in the nose. Henry watched with wide eyes as Dad’s fist landed, watched in awe as he heard the crunch of Arnold’s nose breaking. Arnold stepped back, hands rising to cradle the ruin of his nose, and Dad finished the job with another punch right between Arnold’s eyes.

Arnold fell to the floor in a heap, knocked cold.

Wendy ran over to Henry, but her cousin only had eyes for her Dad.

Dad brushed his hands off. He noticed Henry, still looking at him with wide eyes, and sighed. “I’m sorry boy, I know he ain’t going to make it easy on you this next week-“

“You… you punched Dad,” Henry said quietly.

“Um, yeah?”

“I’ve… no… No one’s ever done that before.” Henry looked down at the body of his father on the floor. “He gets into fights with his friends, but no one ever gets him. Ever.”

Dad snorted. “I don’t think much of his friends son.”

Henry smiled slightly. “I… I don’t either.” He held out a hand to her Dad. “Thanks Uncle Dan.”

Dad blushed, taking her cousin’s hand and shaking it. “Now don’t go thanking me Henry-“

“Too late, I am.” Henry turned to her, letting go of Dad’s hand. “Wendy, thank you so much too. Thank you for coming down. That boot was… it was… awesome.”

Wendy wrapped Henry up in a big hug, squeezing until Henry made an ‘oof’ sound. “No sweat, anything for my favorite cousin.”

It was Henry’s turn to blush. “I’m you’re… I’m your favorite cousin?”

Wendy rolled her eyes, and reached up on her tip toes to ruffle Henry’s red curls. “Yeah dude.”

Dad placed a hand on Henry’s shoulder. “Henry, I want you to know… if you ever need a place, ever need a home, you have one with us here in Gravity Falls.”

Henry went completely still. “Are… are you serious?”

Dad nodded. “As a heart attack.” He looked as his younger brother, laid out on the floor. “Us disappointments, we need to stick together.”

“Yeah,” Henry replied, eyes also on Arnold on the floor, “we do.” He gently shook himself free from her grasp, and turned towards the stairs. At the door he looked back. “Are you all coming?”

“In a second. Save us some of your Aunt Bertie’s cobbler boy.”

Henry nodded and went through the door.

As the door shut, Wendy walked over to her Dad, and hugged him. He squeezed her back, and she finally, finally let herself relax.

“I was scared Daddy,” she let herself admit to the tobacco smell of his overalls.

“You did good Wendy. I’m just sorry you had to see that.”

They broke apart and once again looked at Arnold, laying on the floor in a pool of blood, snot, and drool coming from his head.

“You tell them yet?” Wendy asked.

Dad shook his head. “I ain’t going to. I don’t have to. And I don’t want to.”

Upstairs they heard the sound of brittle laughter, rising as Aunt Rita began to scold Henry. Rising to cover the truth.

“After this afternoon, I… I don’t think I owe them anything.”

Wendy took Dad’s hand in hers-

(flash, a funeral, her mom’s casket in the ground, and Dad taking her small hand in his)

-and squeezed it.

“So when you going to make an honest man of Tyler then?”

Dan took one final look at his brother on the floor before turning away.

“Not soon enough.”

They stepped into the light, and closed the door on Arnold behind them.

One day, Wendy hoped, Henry would be able to do the same as well.

 

 


	223. Chapter 223

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> from tumblr
> 
> "dipper on dipnip constantly wanting outside. then back inside. then back outside. scratching the door, despite being perfectly capable of going himself. henry holding a door open for 5 minutes while dipper just stares out but starts whining when the door starts closing. asshole demon cat. (dont tell me i cant send asks to my own blog, fight me)"

Henry looked up.

Dipper was looking at the back door and moaning piteously.

“Dipper no.”

Another sad, long, drawn out moan.

“Dipper you’re a grown man with three niblings.” Henry paused. “Also you’re a _literal_  demon and could phase through that.”

Snuffling noises were now added, little whines too.

Henry didn’t quite throw down his newspaper, but it was close. 

“ _Fine.”_

He got up, opened the back door, and let his brother in law out.

No sooner than he had closed the back door did massive, blown golden pupil eyes begin to look at him pleadingly, the owner of them asking why Henry was so cruel, so mean as to force Dipper out into the warm.

Henry couldn’t hold back the groan that tore from his throat. 


	224. Chapter 224

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @99redragons: Dipper meets a not-so-friendly dragon. It gives him chilling advice after a destructive battle.

Dipper Pines could walk through walls.

Dipper Pines had fangs and claws and what he was pretty sure was the beginning of wings.

Dipper Pines was ageless and immortal, his body a malleable shell to do what he wished with.

Dipper Pines had the knowledge of the cosmos at his fingertips, waiting only to be accessed.

Dipper Pines was thirteen and currently getting his ass kicked.

He slammed against the jagged wall of the dragon’s lair and slid to the ground, newly broken bones jarring and jostling in him as he did. Malleable shell or not, it still _h̝͚̗̩̞͍u͍̱̳̺r̠͈̻̜͟t͓͙͓̜̩̞̪͠._

The dragon he was fighting roared, shaking the cave around them.

“Give up, little freak,” the dragon- Martin, he was this big scary badass evil dragon and he was called _Martin_ \- purred.

A gout of flame shot from Martin’s nostrils and mouth, and charred Dipper to the bone. Dipper screamed, as skin and muscle disintegrated from his body, and then, seconds later, began to grow back, cell by cell, fiber by fiber. Wracked with pain, all he could do was lay there, panting. This was honestly the last thing he wanted to deal with today. He had barely gotten used to the pull of a summon, the granting of desires.

Trying to adjust to life back in Piedmont.

Point was, the last thing he needed to deal with was-

Another gout of flame lashed at his half reformed body, and the scream he let out would have boiled a human’s eyes in their sockets.

“Pathetic. I was expecting some kind of fight at least.” Martin examined his claws. “I should have known better. You really are just a little boy with stolen scraps of power.”

Martin began to come closer, nostrils flaring at the scent of cooked meat in the enclosed space.

“I should perhaps thank you, for undoing the bonds that chained me and my kind up from this world,” Martin mused. “But that’s really all you were good for.” He opened his great maw, exposing large teeth and fetid breath. “That and a good meal I suppose.”

“That’s… Not going to work,” Dipper managed to choke out.

“Not the first time, no. But I have time, I have patience. I will eat you as many times as it takes. You will be my greatest meal. And I am _always_ hungry.”

Dipper’s forehead suddenly felt like it was splitting open, tearing in two. He opened two eyes and saw… No.

He opened an eye he didn’t know he had and Saw Martin in an entirely new way.

Namely, he Saw a bright burning orb deep within Martin that made all of his newfound senses perk up, made the claws on his hands grow longer and sharper of their own accord.

Ropy muscle and stringy ligaments were still not entirely covered by new skin but he would not lie passively here to be eaten, would wait no longer to fill the sudden aching need that racked his body.

He pushed him self up, wet flesh sticking to the floor as he rose.

“N̷̲̦̦o̬͙͕t͔̹̗͉̝ͅ.̙͙̩̝͓͡.͏.̻̬̙̮̭̲ͅ ͔͈̫̤̤I̭̥͚f̜ ̗͍͖̣̺I̺͞ ͙̞͎͠ͅb̷̩̝̹̠̙i͉͙͉̯̮͉͠t̖̪͖͎͓̮̲͘e͖͔̗̺̮͈.͙͚͉.̭̺̜̮̻.̴̪̜̻͚̗̜̘ _͉̟̞̞̳̺̳͝F̣͔̝͖̰͍̗I͉͘Ŗ̜͎̘͕͎̩Ş̣Ţ͙̪͎̺̘͔ͅ!͏_ ”

With strength he didn’t know he possessed, Dipper launched himself at the dragon. He hit Martin’s chest, the part of the meatsack closest to the glowing orb he saw within, sinking his claws into the dragon’s scaly hide. It gave way under his talons like butter.

It felt good.

Martin roared and breathed fire at Dipper again but he let it slide off of him, unphased. He knew now that it only hurt because he had let it hurt him. Martin swung and thrashed, his tail knocking off the priceless treasures the dragon had amassed off the walls. His struggles failed to dislodge Dipper, who had firmly pinned himself to Martin with his nails.

Dipper’s gums ached, like there were more teeth about to grow in, which was silly. But he did have control over the set he did have and he let them grow long, strong, and sharp, distorting his jaw with an audible break as they grew.

Perhaps Martin knew what Dipper was going for because the dragon’s scales paled from deep emerald to almost white.

“No. No you can’t.” The dragon paused. “You don’t even have to take it thi-”

Dipper sunk his jaws down and it was Martin’s turn to scream in agony as Dipper ripped and tore, bit and chew, delving deeper and deeper to get to the orb he saw inside. At some point his hands joined the fray, grabbing and digging into Martin. Everything narrowed, focused, and his vision tunneled, as every fiber of Dipper’s being was aimed at getting that beautiful, shining orb, whatever it could be…

Close, closer, closer-

(Why were his gums aching so bad? And his lower back randomly? No- no more distractions!)

Close, closer, closer, closer

_THERE!_

His viscera covered hand grasped the orb and Martin’s struggles suddenly ceased. Dipper pulled his way out of the soon to be corpse to find Martin…

Laughing?

Not just a mere chuckle either but a full, deep, throaty laugh; an impressive feat considering Dipper was pretty sure he nicked Martin’s lungs in his, in his… Frenzy.

“What’s so funny?” he asked. He didn’t look at Martin as he spoke, unable to tear his gaze away from the orb.

“Do you even know what that is in your hand boy?”

That… Was a good question. It felt like he should know. It felt like what was in his hands was his stock in trade. It felt like-

“That’s my soul child,” and was there a touch of respect in the dragon’s voice now? “It is fitting that the first soul you devour will be mine. If this is to be my end, then…” Martin paused, tried to speak, broke out in a coughing fit before trying again.

“Then it is an honor to serve as your first meal, for my soul is mighty and will give you the beginning of great power.”

Dipper looked at the orb in his hand. Every sense, every organ, every part of him screamed at Dipper to take a bite, to devour, to

Martin’s laugh rang out in the cave again and Dipper turned to glare at the dragon.

“What is so darn funny? I’m about to kill you!!”

“Because this is only the beginning.”

“Of what?”

Another peale of laughter. “Of hunger without end. Of the constant search for more. My soul will never be enough for you. A thousand, a million souls, more- you will always be starving. Your stomach will always be craving, demanding to be filled.”

“No! That’s… That’s not true!”

“Oh? Then why is it there’s a puddle of drool at your feet?”

Dipper looked down, saw the golden puddle that was threaded with red blood and bits of scale and muscle.

“I-”

“Embrace it. Ignore it, or try to. That is my prophecy to you.” Martin’s head fell back on the ground.

“Now finish me. Embrace your destiny. Embrace your need.”

Dipper didn’t want to.

He lifted the soul to his lips.

Dipper didn’t want this.

He opened his mouth.

Dipper hadn’t asked for this!

_bite_


	225. Chapter 225

The man laughed, then spat in her face.

“What are you going to do little girl?” He gestured to where Dipper was struggling to escape the chains and bindings that the majority of the cult was casting on him. “Your pet demon can’t help you now. And besides-“

The high priest licked his lips, and Mabel felt dirty inside and out just seeing him do that.

“The sacrifices aren’t always for our Lord.”

The thing about Mabel that people forgot, Dipper thought as he gently pulled his sister off the corpse of the high priest, as he waved a hand through her head and dulled the memories of this night in her mind to a soft blur-

The thing about Mabel was that she wasn’t scared to get _creative_.


	226. Chapter 226

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I love the fact that Henry's antlers grow fruit and hold hands, but every 1 in a million fruits at least would have a bone or tooth or fake fingernail in it. They're so close. It's bound to happen."

Dipper randomly plucks an occasional Apple from Henry’s antlers.

Henry doesn’t think much of it; there’s so many apples he grows and when his antlers are visible the kids and Mabel and Stan do the same.

In the other room, in the Mindscape, anywhere away from Henry, Dipper takes a bite.

Human teeth, simultaneously rock hard yet so delicate, crunch like candy under his fangs. Or the apple where the skin hid flesh like razors, made up as it was from the nail clippings of every finger from Henry’s antlers. A bite and instead of firm fruit Dipper encounters the sweet meaty goo of bone marrow, the Apple quickly losing its shape as it spills out from the rupture made by Dipper’s fangs.

These are Dipper’s favorite apples, the fruit nourishing him almost as well as any soul.

(Dipper hates these more than anything else in the world, another reminder of what he had done to his brother.)


	227. Chapter 227

It had begun as a whim, really.

It seemed to Henry that everyone in his family was crafty to some extent. Mabel had… well, it was easier to list what she _didn’t_  do rather than what she did do. Acacia, frustrated at first that she couldn’t get the hang of knitting, had long since thrown herself wholeheartedly into her paints and pencils. Hank was beginning to write his own pieces for the violin, still short, but sweetly lilting regardless. And no spare piece of paper was safe in their house with Willow and her origami skills around. 

Hell, even Stan had that Pines knack for art and crafts; Henry had to live with the sometimes horrifying and downright disgusting taxidermied projects all around the Shack. 

So one day Henry had driven to the new Home Depot that had been built on the outskirts of Bend, and picked up bags of soil and fertilizer, seeds and garden tools, and four feet of metal pipe. (That last was for Mabel. He wasn’t going to ask; he had a feeling he was better off not knowing.)

He had started digging in the backyard that afternoon when he was met by his eldest daughter.

“Whatcha doing Daddy?” she asked.

He grunted as he thrust the shovel into the earth again, pushing against it with his foot to bring the soil up.

“Planting a garden ‘Cacia.”

She crossed her arms. “With what?”

Henry looked down at the bag off to the side full of seed packets.

“Oh lets see. I got us tomatoes and zucchini and some nice bell peppers and-”

“ _Daaaad!”_ Acacia started to stomp her foot, but then put it gently back down; she had imperiously told everyone at dinner last week that since they were starting third grade, she was personally going to start acting “more mature.” Predictably, there had been mixed results. 

Undeterred, she went on. 

“You can just get all of that at the store!”

Henry nodded. “I can.”

Another thought occurred to her. “Oh, or you could have Uncle Dipper just grow it in a second for you!”

“I absolutely can.”

“Dad _listen_ to m- wait, why are you agreeing with me?”

Henry smiled. “Because you’re right.”

She had walked over next to him, and was now looking at the freshly turned earth. She looked back up at him. 

“I am?”

“Yup. But let me ask you this. Why do you draw flowers?”

Acacia scowled. “What do you mean?”

Henry dug his shovel in for another load of dirt.

“I mean, at all those hobby and house stores your mother takes you to there’s tons of pictures of flowers already made that we can buy.” The soil was gently set onto the pile growing next to him. “I could even print off pictures of all the flowers I want at the library.”

“So?”

“So knowing there’s pictures in the world of flowers already, why do you still draw them?”

“Because it’s fun! Because I like flowers and they’re pretty! And because… because…” She hid her face in his side, burrowing into his sweater.

“Because I made them and they’re mine,” Acacia finished. “Mine and not no one else’s. My art that _I_  made.”

Henry laid his less dirty hand on top of Acacia’s head, brushing over her frizzly red curls.

“Well, that’s how I feel about all this.”

She looked up at him.

“Really?”

Henry nodded. “Really really.”

Acacia looked at the dirt for a long moment, then smiled.

“Cool.”

“I know,” he agreed. He laid the shovel down on the ground and held up the bag with the seeds.

“Want to help me plant these?”

“Can I order them into a smiley face?”

Uh oh. “Um…”


	228. Chapter 228

Lolonja wasn’t sure what she expected at the birth of the new universe but it wasn’t this…. This great unformed swirling mass of stuff.

A little voice inside of her, that she and her brothers and sisters gained when they awoke here, chimed in that it would only be another several hundred million years before the swirling gasses around them coalesced into stars, and little planets began to form- no time at all!

She didn’t know about everyone else, but personally Lolonja was beginning to find that voice to be really fucking annoying.

She looked down at her own form- or rather, the lack thereof. Her old form didn’t feel right, hadn’t fitted anymore when they awoke. But she wasn’t sure what to replace it with.

Wasn’t sure what to do in the great Waiting.

She heard laughter, and she smiled to see four or five Dreams- no, not Dreams, not anymore but they still weren’t sure what they should be called- running and chasing after each other. If there was one blessing in the Waiting, it was that none of them were alone. Not only were they not alone but there were so many of them, a town (meaningless concept now) in the nothing.

Lolonja worried that thousands in the face of billions of years would not be enough. That they would become first bored, then disenchanted with each other. Familiarity breeding contempt breeding hatred. That by the time the sleepers awoke, they would be greeted not by a unified front but by an army of warring monsters, tearing asunder all their Master had built a reality away-

“Hey.”

Lolonja looked up (what was up, there was no direction here) and saw the impossible.

There was a human woman standing in front of her. Long brown hair swirled around her, buffeted by some wind that Lolonja couldn’t feel. Her arms and legs were covered in scrapes and bruises, scars and multi colored bandages; a life lived fully. Her black patent shoes were scuffed and dirty, and her purple shirt had been darned a time or two. Even her sweater, hand knitted yellow yarn with a pink axolotl on it, was a little frayed. A hand beaded headband kept her hair back from her face. Her very familiar and completely impossible face….

“Mizar?”

The woman smiled. “No.” She paused. “Well, not quite. There’s one universe where I wear her like clothes. Or maybe she wore me? Or maybe we drank each other like milkshakes? I don’t know, feel free to pick your metaphor here, we got time.”

Lolonja had never had hands or opposable thumbs, didn’t even really have a physical form per se now, but still, she felt the need to pinch her nose.

Somehow, despite lacking a brain or nerves, she was getting a headache.

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Mizar… no, this wasn’t Mizar, this was some being wearing Mizar’s face- scowled. “Well jeez, that’s awful rude of you!”

“No, you don’t understand. You shouldn’t be here because you  _can’t_  be here. We’re…” Lolonja sighed. “It’s just us now. Everyone else is asleep.”

The being shrugged.

“I woke up. I was going to go back asleep again but I wanted to check on you crazy kids, see how you were doing.”

“You  _woke_  up-“ Lolonja paused. She hadn’t even asked the most important question of all.

“Who… _what_  are you?”

The woman smiled.

“I am many things.”

“That’s not a real answer,” Lolonja snarled. Maybe it wasn’t smart to sass back to a being of unknown might and power, but she had never been one for doing the smart or prudent thing. A thought occurred to her. “Are you like, God? Like, God-God? Me and the others were pretty sure there was no such person but…”

The woman shook her head, sending brown hair flying around her like a cloud. “Nah. Let’s see… what would make sense for you… oh!” She drew herself up straight and tall, and her eyes flashed every color of the rainbow (and it had been so long, so painfully long since Lolonja had seen any kind of color at all.)

“I am the world. Or perhaps the universe. I am God. I am Truth. I am all. I am one. And I’m also you.”

Lolonja stared at the woman, who was staring back expectantly, a proud air around her.

Finally, she managed to speak.

“What the shit kind of answer was that?”

The woman’s face fell and Lolonja went on. “I feel like you’re making some kind of clever reference here, but in case you had forgotten, the universe as I and my Flock knew it is gone, dead, vanished, what have you.” Lolonja paused. “If you’re toying with us, I… I don’t care if you’re the first new thing I’ve seen in a long, long time. I want you to leave my Flock alone.”

Rainbows faded back into the black void that surrounded them all, and a chill settled into Lolonja’s form, despite there being no real ‘temperature’ in the Waiting.

“Or else what?” the woman purred.

“I don’t know,” Lolonja admitted. She, like everyone else, was so much More now. Even now she could feel power coiled up inside her, slowly growing, changing her into something new.

She had a feeling however, compared to the being in front of her, all that was like nothing.

The being smiled and the chill disappeared, replaced with the warmth of stars, a warmth that made Lolonja want to cry since it had been far too long since she had felt anything akin to it.

“No worries, I’m not here to do you or yours harm.” The axotol on her sweater somehow grinned wider and the being said, “You can call me Chaos. Or Mizar. Or Mabel. I really did like the times and places I was her. Or she was me. The distinction kind of blurred together after a while. Though there was one time we were me and her and this other-“

Lolonja had a feeling that Chaos, left to her own devices, would ramble for a good long while. And while they had nothing but time to kill here in the Waiting, well. She had always been impatient.

“Okay Miz- erm. Chaos. But why are you  _here_?”

The being of unimaginable might stomped her foot.

“I told you already!” She looked at Lolonja for a second and Lolonja felt the weight of that gaze down to the bedrock of her soul. “But I guess I did give you a good scare didn’t I?”

Chaos plopped down on the… ground? Air? X-Axis? Whatever. She plopped down, legs akimbo in front of her, and Lolonja joined her a second later.

“Most times, my pawns make it all the way to the end of the game. They blow the dust out of the cartridge, reflangle the flabibulators, get the room ready for the party.” She waggled her hand. “Yanno. All of that.”

“But,” Lolonja said.

“Ah yes. The but.” Chaos stared out, to where the beings that were once Dreams and currently were debating what they would like to be called after the Waiting, played.

“Sometimes things don’t work out the way you plan. Sometimes people don’t work out the way you want them to. And when that happens, it’s up to me to start everything over again.”

Chaos looked back at Lolonja, and she quailed from what she saw there.

The loneliness.

The pain.

True eternity, eternity that she had thought she had comprehended before but in the being’s eyes Lolonja could see what it meant to be ever conscious of the never ending cycle. To always have the outsider point of view.

To always have at least one part of your being be forever alone.

Chaos smiled, and the moment broke.

“Well. I know what it’s like to be here, where you and your friends are. And I just wanted to say hi. And let you know that everything will be okay, I promise.” Chaos paused. “Well, okayish, life is kind of messy that way. But _definitely_ okayish.”

“How… how much longer?” Lolonja felt like a shit for asking, especially after what she had just seen, but on the other hand, she was half worried she and the others were going to go mad here in the dark.

In the Waiting.

A crooked half smile, like the one she could barely remember Mizar giving eons ago.

“You know I can’t say,” Chaos replied sadly. “These things take time. But you know-“ She waved a hand, encompassing the Flock, the veil hiding the Sleepers, the utter nothingness of their lives at this moment. “You all could take a nap too.”

What.

“What?”

Chaos shrugged. “Sure. There’s no reason for you all to get all lonely and weird and stir crazy nuts. Just take a nap! I’ll make sure you wake up when it’s close to time, I promise. Besides-“ She poked Lolonja, and Lolonja felt something grand and terrible unfurl within her, power stretching and yearning to be released. “Some sleep would do y’all good too. You got a lot of growing left to do.”

By now the Flock had noticed her visitor and they were beginning to surround the two of them. By their silence (well, mostly silence with some occasional muttering), Lolonja knew that the offer Chaos had made her had reached all of them as well.

Sleep.

Rest.

Dreams.

It was all very tempting, and Lolonja could feel her Flock begging to take the offer, begging for release. But-

“But what about you?” Lolonja asked.

An eyebrow raised. “What about me?”

“Then…” Ugh. Lolonja was the _worse_ at this sappy feeling stuff, that’s what she had Star for. “Then aren’t you going to be alone too?”

Chaos looked at her for a second and then smiled. It was the smile that used to appear on the Master’s face, the exact expression, when he was decidedly Not Okay but was trying to fake it until he was.

“I’ll be fine. I always am.”

An idea popped into Lolonja’s head.

“You said you were sleeping too. Why don’t you…um… take a nap with us?” Chaos’ face had gone blank, so Lolonja went on. “Please?”

A hand brushed over Lolonja, fingers that weren’t fingers knotting into wool that had long since vanished in the fire and flame of birth.

“I would like that very much,” Chaos said.

As the Flock began to settle down to rest, nightmares and dreams curling into one another, people piling into massive cuddle puddles to sleep, Lolonja held herself slightly apart from the rest, stepping a little ways off.

Someone had to be able to watch and take care of the rest, even in rest.

Besides.

Chaos, currently entwined in her body in her soul, was a really loud snorer.


	229. Chapter 229

Willow loved her Mommy and Daddy. Willow loved Grunkle Stan and Uncle Dipper. Willow loved the Shack and the Library and Miss Mack the Lunch Lady and cartoons and the color smorqwakle. Willow loved lots of things. And Willow loved her parents and uncles very very much so.

But she loved her brother and sister more.

It was mean, the reason why, and she knew better, she was seven for Pete’s sake, she wasn’t dumb. Obviously you shouldn’t love one person more than another. That wasn’t fair. And Willow was pretty sure that even if it was true it should probably be the adults she loved most first, then her triplets, and maybe Gompers in third.

But Acacia and Hank had never given her the Look.

She wasn’t stupid. She and Hank were in TAG after all.

(Or as Acacia called it, “your dumb special nerd class.” But Willow could see in her colors that she wasn’t trying to be mean. She was glad not to have to do extra work and be away from her friends.)

Willow knew adults lied to kids all the time. She knew that there were adults out there that could hurt her (many had already tried.) She knew that there were adults that didn’t act like adults should.

Willow knew not everyone saw the colors she did. She knew things that she knew she wasn’t supposed to know. And she knew by their colors and the Look that her parents and uncles knew it too.

(Her fire, on the other hand, didn’t seem to worry them anywhere near as much, which was just weird.)

Grunkle Stan gave her the Look when the colors flared up in public and she pointed them out to him. His colors said he was worried he wouldn’t understand enough to help her. His colors were sad because she reminded him of someone, someone like her. He gave her the Look and she wanted to scream because she didn’t need him to understand, she just wanted him to hug her and just… Be there. Be her weird smelly old Grunkle. That’s all she really wanted and needed from him.

Mommy gave her the Look when she ran to Mommy crying because she had just seen a Bad Man at the grocery store and no one else could see that he was Bad but here and looking at him made her feel dirty inside. Mommy gave the best hugs because she was warm and squishy and half the time her sweaters were scratch and sniff so she smelt good too. Willow didn’t mind the hugs; that’s what she needed and wanted. She minded how Mommy looked at her like she was a _baby_. She knew that wasn’t what Mom meant by the look and she knew she wasn’t being fair. But that’s what Mommy’s Looks made her feel like; like she was small and dumb and couldn’t do anything, just like when she had to sit out at recess because her asthma. Willow just wanted Mommy to make things better, at least for a little bit, not take what made her _her_ away.

Uncle Dipper gave her the Look when she mentioned the flash of color she saw on the mailman despite wearing her bubble. Or when she opened her mouth and a voice that wasn’t hers came out. What made her so _mad_ when Uncle Dipper gave her the Look was that it was so confusing. He was the one that was teaching her about the colors and her fire and what it meant when she woke up knowing Grunkle Stan shouldn’t get in the car that morning. Uncle Dipper came in her dreams and took her places in the Mindscape no other humans went to! They were going over a weird spellbook he had gotten his last summon! He was teaching her everything she knew so why did he get so… so… what was the word Mommy had used? Canstiparted. Yeah, that sounded right. Why did Uncle Dipper Look at her all Canstiparted? She couldn’t tell if she was doing something wrong but that couldn’t be it and she was so confused sometimes she just wanted to kick a hole in the wall and cry. She couldn’t even cheat and look at his colors. Uncle Dipper had told her it would hurt her brain to look at his colors, but personally Willow thought he was being a big dumb poop butt who didn’t want her to see what he actually thought of her.

She could put up with all that though. She could come up with reasons behind the Looks, even if, as with Uncle Dipper, it came down to being a Big Stupid Poop Butt Face. Their Looks hurt but she understood, or she tried her best to understand even when she didn’t want to be nice and just wanted to be upset.

But nothing hurt her like when Daddy gave her the Look.  

Just yesterday she had asked why Grunkle Stan always came out of the basement a little sad, and she saw Daddy’s colors go down from bright happy yellows to deep, terrible pinks. He Looked at her and around him the pinks were so intense she could feel it like a fuzziness on her teeth. Daddy was pink on Father’s Day sometimes. He was pink like that when they had been in Bend with Uncle Dipper, and a man from one of the churches had pointed at her and yelled mean things at her. (She wasn’t sure why Uncle Dipper had called him a witchsniffer after he was done scaring him. Being a witch would have been really cool, but she only Saw things.) Some days she saw he was a little pink so she went over to cuddle him, but that just made him Look at her, sigh, and get even _more_ pink. Willow didn’t get it. There was something there he hadn’t told the three of them, she could see the bare edges of it in his pinks. But what was it? Why wouldn’t he tell them?

Was it something wrong with them?

Or was it something wrong with her?

Hank and Acacia never Looked at her. They never worried about what she Saw or Said. They never bugged her about it. If they gave her hugs, they were just hugs because they were worried about her and they loved her; there was nothing extra in them. Her Sight wasn’t scary or freaky to them. It was just another way to get some ice cream out of Stan or to get Jerry McAllen in trouble for peeking under the stalls in the bathroom or figure out if Daddy had made dessert that night. They didn’t expect anything of her. She was just their sister who Saw a few extra things. That was it.

With her brother and sister, she was free.

And that was why, and she didn’t care, Willow really really _really_ didn’t care about how bad it made her.

That was why she loved them the best.


	230. Chapter 230

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I HC that you know you're part of the Pines clan when Mabel makes a sweater special for you. Can you tell us about Henry and his first official Pines sweater?"

They had been going out for a month or so, when Mabel sprung a surprise on him.

Literally. One minute he was stepping out of the bathroom, the next Mabel was springing out from under the couch in Dan and Tyler’s living room.

“Hey Henbone THINKFAST!”

A warm, fuzzy thing launched at him and attacked his face. He resisted, barely, the urge to scream, and pulled it off his face. He held it out at arms length to see what exactly it was.

It was a deep, arterial red sweater. In the middle of it was a depiction of a tree stump with a book on top. It felt under Henry’s fingers like it was made of wool; fine wool at that. 

“I couldn’t decide if you were a book or a tree so I did both,” Mabel explained, a tinge of nervousness in her voice. “And I got some of the Flock to give me their wool, do you know the Flock? No? Not yet? Anyway-” Now she was wringing her hands absentmindedly as Henry continued to stare at the sweater. “But then I spun the yarn and dyed it with this weird flower Dipper brought back to the house and um…Do you like it?”

He tried it on.

It fit perfectly.

No one had ever made him anything before with their own hands.

“I love it Mabel.”


	231. Chapter 231

His last breath in the hospital bed, and Dipper felt his sister’s soul untether from this plane, soaring into the place in between places.

The place where he couldn’t follow her.

That didn’t mean, Dipper thought as he swirled into being back in his corner of the Mindscape, in his Shack, that she couldn’t follow him.

He turned into the room, and there she was, waiting for him like he expected, her form bursting from [her pedestal](http://oreramar.tumblr.com/post/121798241921/the-offer), her… her…

“Mabel, why do you still look like your last form?”

The tall bald man that stood in front of him instead of the form of his beloved twin scowled and folded his arms.

“Because I’m not done with it yet.” His sister’s brow furrowed. “Also, can you please call me Lynn?”

“Why? That’s not your _real_ name.”

“Yes it is Dipper.” Mabel’s mouth crooked up in a half smile that he wasn’t used to seeing on her face. “Besides, you could say the same about the name Mabel, you know?”

“No. I don’t know.”

(yes you do Dipper)

Mabel ignored him and went on, sticking her hands in the pockets of the Lynn-form’s overalls. “I was other people before I was Mabel. And I’m a whole lot of other people after Mabel. I am Mabel but Mabel is not all of me.” She looked at him, and raised an eyebrow at Dipper. “And right now I’m feeling he/his/him, if you wouldn’t mind.”

Dipper sputtered. “I didn’t say anything!”

“You didn’t need to. I know you brobro.”

He couldn’t help but light up at that. “Mabel! You’re back!”

“Yes.” A pause. “No, I’m not changing clothes. I’m still Lynn.” She turned to go. “I want to catch up Dipper, but I hear my Grandma and Grandpa calling so-“

Mabel began to fade away, denim overalls blending into her plaid work shirt as she fuzzed out. No. He couldn’t lose her, not yet, not again, not now.

“No! Wait! _St̙͘ọ̠̳̲̬p͙̣̬̤̪͙͟!”_

Mabel’s soul snapped back into his reality, glitching for a second like Stan’s old TV when it was on the fritz, before reforming back again in… Damnit, she was still dressed in her Lynn form.

The look on Mabel’s face matched the exasperation he imagined was on his own. They stood for a second, looking at each other, before Mabel sighed and stepped forward, walking towards Dipper.

Her hand wasn’t the hand he was used to, scarred and petite and covered in rings, but instead was large and strong, covered in oil stains and calloused from work. Yet he still leaned into her touch as she briefly cupped his cheek.

“Dipper, you are important to me, just as I am important to you.” Mabel stepped back slightly, her hand leaving his face. “But there are other people equally important to me, just as I am equally important to other people.”

“But…” His face felt so cold, the room felt so cold as his sister had stepped away from him. “You’re my twin. You’re Mabel-“

“Lynn. Right now I’m Lynn, Dipper.”

“What about the life you built? Here in the Shack, here in Gravity Falls?”

Another odd half smile. “This isn’t the home I raised my children and loved my husband in. This isn’t Gravity Falls.”

She began to walk across the room, heavy work boots thunking and thudding over the worn wooden planks of the floor.

“I love you Dipper.” A step in front of Soos, Wendy, and Stan gurning in front of Library, a Grand Opening sign perched over the door. “I love them.” Another step, to a picture of a tired but happy Mabel holding all three off the triplets in her hospital bed. “I love Acacia and Hank and Willow, just like I love my son Terrance-“

“Who?”

She ignored him, continuing to a picture of Henry that Dipper took in the last year of his life, asleep peacefully in his rocking chair on the porch. Her calloused fingers traced the picture over Henry’s antlers, his bare feet sticking out of his pant legs, the vines climbing up his legs. She turned back to look at Dipper. “And I love Henry like I love my wife Annie. They’re both waiting for me.”

“But… I’ve been waiting for you too,” Dipper said weakly. He felt lost. This wasn’t what he had hoped it would be. She hadn’t shown up as Tommy, her form before this one, the last time. Why was she persisting in this… this delusion?

“I love them. And I love you. But you are not the only person who I love, just as you are not the only person who loves me. I have many loved ones. And I am beloved by many.”

For a second time, she began to fade away. Began to leave him. “I belong to other people, and I’d like to see them. I’ll be back soon, I promise-“

Something hot and ugly snarled in his chest. No, no she couldn’t do this, no no _no_

“Y͜o͞u ͞b͝ _e͠l̨o̶̍̓̓͌n͋̈͊gͬͤ̽ ̽ͤ͜t̑ͧ̇̾̇͠ **o̴͂ M̴̧ͩ̒̽̅ͫ̽ͪͧͭ͝E̅ͫͯ̆̀ͧ́͏́͞!!!”**_ and he didn’t mean it that way but it came out as a scream a yell a roar that shook the Shack to its rafters, sent pictures and books falling down onto the floor.

Mabel screamed as chains shot up from the floor, bursting through the floor and wrapping themselves around her. There were chains around her wrists, her ankles, chains attached to a heavy metal collar around her neck. She fell to the floor with a thud, and her form glitched and shuddered, shifting back and forth between the Lynn body and her real form before finally she was Mabel, was his sister again. She lifted her head and screamed, a long warbly note that made him feel unmoored from his body. (a note calling to other worlds than these-) As her long brown hair fell over her face, covering it, Dipper noticed that the ends of the chains were in his hands, their weight heavy and comforting.

He shouldn’t, he shouldn’t feel comforted by this, shouldn’t twitch his hands to make the chains briefly tighten-

Dipper dropped the ends of the chains on the floor. They hit with a thud, chiming slightly as they piled up.

What was he doing? This was his twin, his sister, this was _Mabel-_

With shaking hands, he snapped his fingers and the chains disappeared.

He bent down to help her up. “Mabel, Mabel I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it, I’m-“

She held up a hand and he stopped talking. She pushed herself up off the floor. Her form flickered, from Lynn to Mabel to Tommy to Mabel to an Indian woman with a large nose and larger petticoats to Mabel to a person in a skirt and missing an arm to Mabel to-

Dipper shook his head. She was changing too fast, shifting through forms so quickly that not even he could make heads or tails of what was going on.

“You meant it.”

“No, I-“

Her form was settled back into that of Lynn’s now.

“And you enjoyed it.”

“Mabel, can you let me explain-“

“Lynn. Right here and right now, I am Lynn, I am a man, I am not your sister, but your brother. And that’s not the point.”

She looked at him for a long minute, and he quailed under her gaze.

“Henry misses you, you know.”

The non sequitur hit Dipper like a dump truck.

Before he had a chance to respond Mabel went on. “Acacia is wondering why you didn’t visit her last go around; she was pretty proud that she had triplets this past life. Stan found Ford again- cousins. Told me it was a shame that you didn’t visit them to see what they got up to.” Despite her anger, Mabel couldn’t help but smile that damn half cocked grin as she said, “And Soos…. Well, it’s a shame you didn’t drop in, you would have been as shocked as I was when he told me what he did this past life.”

“Mabel… why are you telling me this?”

“It’s Lynn. You’ve never had a problem remembering your manners and using correct pronouns and names I don’t know why you’re starting now.” She pointed a finger at him.

“We have a long time, you and I.” She paused. “And _our_ family. You are not going to spend this next eternity pining away for me. You _will_ remember that there are others who love you, who want to see you. Others who are getting hurt by your absence. Your family is beginning to wonder if you ever loved them.”

It felt like someone had punched him in the gut.

“But… I do-“

“I know that. So do they. But you should really start showing it. And-“

Her finger darted forward and poked him in the chest, hard.

“You are not going to spend this span of the universe speaking to only me. No, not just that, but only one part of me. You will respect me. You will treat me like a _person_ , and not like… like… a doll you keep replaying old memories and projecting on.”

Her… his. His words hit him like a brick wall.

“Mabel. Lynn. I don’t know what to say.”

“Good. You shouldn’t. You obviously need time to pull your head out of your ass.”

“Mabel! That’s not fair!”

She… He crossed her arms and stood up straight and tall. “You have a lot of pain in you, and a lot of pain and loneliness ahead of you. I get that. I understand that. But if you love me, if you truly love me-“

A tear tracked down his face. “You know that I do.”

“Do I?” she asked quietly, gently, and Dipper felt himself freeze inside. “Because how you’ve treated me… that’s not how you treat people who love.”

Dipper opened his mouth.

He closed his mouth.

Words began to push up his throat but died in his mouth.

Finally, Dipper swallowed and said, “I’ll let you go then?”

“Oh. You’ll _let_ me go? So generous to _allow_ me that.”

Lynn turned without a word and disappeared into the in between, leaving him alone in the cold room of his mind.

(She was reborn four years later.

It was the first time he had seen her since she had left him.)


	232. Chapter 232

(everything that was will be again)

—

“Are you scared?”

Alcor looked up as Lolojna trotted up to him. All around them, the Flock, so large in number now, played for one final time before[ the end.](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F4708097%2Fchapters%2F10752215&t=MTM3ZDhhM2IxNGYzNGZmNzhkYjA2NzNkMmJhMTQwMmUwNzRmMmI2OSx1M3Bya1k0Ng%3D%3D)

The time for bravado, for comforting lies, for lying in general, had passed eons ago, leaving Alcor with only a blunt empty honesty. 

“A tiny bit.” There was still, at the end of all things, a spark of humor, so he added, “Like, five percent scared.”

Lolojna snorted. “You’re just upset that we’ll remember this and you won’t.”

He smiled. She knew him well (as she well should.)

“It’s that too,” he admitted.

She rolled on her back to look at the dead sky above her.

“Well look at it this way, another time another place and we’re going to be in the same position as you.”

He smiled. “From one person at the end to over 50,000…” He thought about it. “That’s going to get kind of cramped.”

—-

everything that was will be again.

He had sent the sheep to sleep when that phrase filtered through his head, uttered by a soul now long dead and asleep as well.

They had gotten it, Alcor thought as he readied himself for his final and most greatest trick, about half right.

It wasn’t that everything repeated itself over and over again. How boring, how terrible that thought was, that nothing ever changed. That no one had a choice.

No. That was a very limited and biased reading of the word ‘be’.

What was to be after all, than life? To live. 

Everything that had been would be again, everything that lived would live again, an endless cycle of darkness and pain, yes, but also of life and joy and light. A great cacophony of souls and stars constantly reinventing themselves, creating and destroying and creating and destroying all over again.

And in this iteration, he would have the honor of closing the door on this universe, and beginning another one. 

Dipper smiled as he placed his hands on his chest, readied the swirling nebula inside of him for explosion.

He couldn’t wait to see Mabel again. 


	233. Chapter 233

five hundred years from now, and to the eye the Woodsman still looks ‘normal’- normal being thirteen feet tall and crowned with antlers and disembodied limbs. 

But.

But catch a glimpse of the Woodsman from the corner of your eye and see

well

(you don’t know quite what you saw afterwards. You just have an impression of something large and grand and terrible-)

The Woodsman who cannot stop growing, and though his magic can fool the mortal eye, he is massive, a giant stalking through the woods, steps slow and careful out of necessity

A thousand years and the Woodsman has rooted himself in the ground, because it was becoming impossible to move around. The uncontrollable growth is still there, both from his nature and from every hand he takes, but now he can divert it, direct it, and make it flow into the ever expanding root system in the ground. 

Seeds that grow into a likeliness of his first, original form, back from when he was new, a sapling, so that he may walk the world still.

(He puts his conscious in these constructs and in turn, every hand they collect blooms on his main body)

Several thousand years and the few that find his true body know him not as the Woodsman but as Yggdrasil, the World Tree.

(And by then they aren’t exactly wrong)


	234. Chapter 234

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @soflashtasitc: Henry Pines, bedtime

Mabel vibrated in the bed and prepared to take mental notes. She had created a forty page manifesto, currently only in her head, true, but still _really important Dipper_ , about people’s pajama choices and what it said about them. 

There were even illustrations. She was very proud.

And now- Mabel blushed- it was the first time her and Henry were sleeping together… well, _that_  wasn’t quite true. First time falling asleep on purpose in the same bed, rather.

As she heard Henry rustling in the bathroom down the hall, she drew pictures in her head of what he would wear. Would he have a three piece suitjama set, striped or covered in duckies? She imagined bottoms four inches too short for Henbone, his feet sticking out really super cute. Did he have a night cap for his amazing hair? 

Mabel wrinkled her nose. That was probably too much to hope for. 

Maybe, _just maybe_ … he slept in his undies. That was good.

Even better- nothing. Nothing would be obviously be best. 

The bathroom door opened and footsteps came down the hall.

Mabel bit her lip.

This was going to be good. 

Henry stepped into the doorway. He was wearing a heavily stained old sweatshirt that had clearly been Manly Dan’s as it was four sizes too big, and read “Gravity Falls Meese Festival 1987.” The sweatpants were his, considering they were branded with Oregon State, but like the sweatshirt they were far too big for him, so that the bottoms actually pooled around his feet, hiding those cutie patooties. 

Henry blushed as he saw her looking at him. 

“I get cold pretty easy,” he said, a hand behind her head.

Mabel smiled.

She could get used to this.

“I can think of a few ways to keep you warm at night,” she rasped.

(thirty minutes later, Henry wasn’t complaining but well, when Mabel said that, he was thinking she meant… something else. Not four electric blankets, a hot water bottle under his pillow, and a pair of socks two inches thick.)


	235. Chapter 235

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> beelieveinbees said: What was that one piece of media that each of the triplets was obsessed with as a child and would rewatch/reread/replay as much as the adults / siblings were willing to put up with?

**Acacia:** _TRUCKS!_

No, literally, it was a forty minute video entitled _TRUCKS!_ Pickup trucks, monster trucks, dump trucks, every kind of truck you can think of in action, and crawling across the screen to the accompaniment of fourth rate ostensibly child friendly heavy metal licks and no narration whatsover.

It was a present from Toby Determined that Henry thinks he got from the dollar bin at the gas station and Stan is pretty sure that he got from the depths of hell.

 **Hank:** _The Berenste/ain Bears_

Sometimes his books are spelled with an ‘e.’

Sometimes they’re spelled with an ‘a’. 

Sometimes the world Moma Bear and Papa Bear and Brother and Sister live in seems to be after the End, the sky stained blood red, and animals rising and evolving to take the place of Those Who Came Before. 

Other times its the books Mabel remembers vaguely reading from Kindergarten.

She should probably start screening Dipper’s presents to the kids from other dimensions. 

**Willow:** _Frozen_

There’s always one who loves _Frozen._  

No one can escape _Frozen._  

**_ṋ̸̜̰̼̖̺ǫ͚̳͚͓̗ ̛̞̲̰̠͔̺͢ͅo̗̟̱͇̖̮̕̕n̳̯̥̥͢e̷҉͎͈̱̫_ **


	236. Chapter 236

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some QnA!

Has Henry ever tried to run away before he turned 18? What made him come back or what made him not try?

Hmmm… I personally don’t see him trying to run away. Rather, Henry bided his time, waited, and plan. More outwit, outlast if that makes any sense.

So he didn’t run away… but he worked side jobs to save up his cash, got a car behind his parent’s back that he hid, and had his college applications and responses mailed to a PO Box next to the school.

That being said, [@soulsinshadow](https://tmblr.co/mMnE2zWfnEFSoYAMIHiLCYg) has a fic where Henry runs away and it’s dope and I love it, so if you want to HC it I’m down!

Does Henry consider himself a Christian? I mean, presumably he would avoid his parents' particular denomination like the plague, but does he later find some sort of value in a different church, or do his experiences growing up largely turn him off religion? Also, do any of the triplets ever subscribe to any particular religious identity?

Henry begins doubting when he’s in second and third grade, and by the time he hits middle school he has completely lost any kind of faith or belief in religion that he had- not that he actually _tells_ that to his parents, of course.

As for the triplets, while Mabel and Henry raise them to be open minded, and would not mind if the kids joined a religion, the triplets end up being happily agnostic.

Probably because of that whole ‘growing up with a demon’ thing. 

What happened when Wendy went to Portland to check in on her nephew?

She pissed her pants laughing for ten minutes at the kind of shenanigans he had gotten into, then spent an enjoyable afternoon telling Lucy Ann and the rest of the Crew the most embarrassing stories of Hank’s childhood that she could possibly think of.

Then they had a vote of which one was the most hysterical. It ended up being a tie between the time two year old Hank tried to flush himself down the toilet, or the three year terror of bunny rabbits.


	237. Chapter 237

Dipper looked at the tiny body on the table and wondered what he should call it.

“Meat sack” was perhaps the most appropriate term for it but that phrase was… coarse. Dirty. Tainted.

No. This body had a far greater purpose in store.

(This is a bad idea.)

“Creation?” Technically true as well but that was way too mad scientist for his taste. “Simulacra?” Nope, too ethereal sounding. “Meat puppet?” Nope, that was even worse than meat sack. “Golem?”

Hmmm. Now _that_ was closer to the truth.

(You know better.)

There had been magic, copious and quite frankly ridiculous amounts of it, magic on a scale that humans wouldn’t be able to wield for at least another two centuries and even then only with the latest in magitech. But in the end, it had come down to blood, earth and words.

Earth from below the floorboards under the man’s feet, earth that the girl sprang from.

Earth from Gravity Falls, the place that he was bo- well, one part, the most important part in this case, was born from.

Blood from the man frozen in time, hand outstretched clasping only air now. Blood from the girl, too tiny, far too tiny. Blood from them both to bind him to them.

His blood, golden to their red, his blood to bind him to his creation, to match his creation in time to the girl.

And finally words. Because in his realm, in the seat of his power, the heart of his realm, Dipper was God, and his Words rang out with equal importance.

(Don’t get so fucking full of yourself kid, sheesh.)

Dipper considered once again the body.

No. Golem was close but still not right. Because he had done one better.

Because this body would shit and piss, eat and breathe, cry and laugh. Because this wasn’t mere clay but muscle and bone and organs and skin and hair all crafted into being by his will. Because his creation wasn’t a stagnant doll but a body, a real actual human body that would grow and age, a body that was missing only-

Him.

His soul.

Fuck.

He’d have to stick with “meat sack”, it made the most sense.

(You’re too old for this Dipper Pines.)

Not that it would matter. In a few minutes he’d be going to sleep, and waking up anew. In a few minutes he would be someone brand new, someone clean of his sins.

In a few minutes he would be a brother again.

Dipper felt a pang of guilt at that thought. He still had some niblings he was still in contact with, his precious stars that were still so very precious to him, even though there was so _damn many_ seriously he loved Ida but he thought she had been kidding when she said she wanted her own baseball team and-

(Rambling. You’re rambling.)

It would hurt them, he knew, to leave without warning. To disappear without saying goodbye. And if it had been anyone else, if it had been any other child at the center of this deal, he wouldn’t have even begun to consider this course of action but.

But.

It was Mabel.

(It is a soul who _was_ Mabel but has also been many other people aside.)

It was his sister.

And the pain his family would feel was nothing, _n͖̳̥̪͢ọ͙̖͔͈̥t̘̖̬̣̻h̗̭͓̣̘͎̻͠i͙̪̲̗̖͙n̦͕͙g̷̣̪_ like the pain he had endured without Mabel in his life, Mabel by his side constantly.

(This is a mistake.)

Enough dithering.

(This is not going to work.)

Time to fulfill his end of the bargain.

He took his new shell from the Mindscape and back into reality, placing it next to Belle, already doing better thanks to Lionel’s deal, in her crib. Dipper inhaled, placed his lips onto the puppet, and exhaled.

(Thirteen years later, thirteen years wiser, thirteen years knowing better, the end of a vacation, and the remains of his handiwork a sloppy slurry on the ground and in the backseat of a car.)


	238. Chapter 238

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More questions!

At what point did child Henry transition from, "these are my parents and I should love and respect them by default and try to be someone worthy of their love," to "these people are crap parents who will never understand or accept me and I just need to tough it out until I can get away"?

Kindergarten.

Before then, Henry was kind of in a bubble, an echo chamber, a small world that just consisted of him, his parents, and occasional outings to church, the woods, and the grocery store. 

Being given a book, being spoken to kindly and softly, hell, just seeing other kids and what their lives were like, was a massive game change for Henry bab. 

 

Imagine Mabel and Henry waking up to find her hair tangled in his antlers

It happens all the time!

After the nth time of Henry waking up to Mabel two inches from face and hair everywhere, Mabel starts doing her hair in a braid before bed.

 

Henry and books? Maybe at work in the library, or just reading, or something. Just. Henry and Books.

For his 35th birthday, Mabel got him bookbinding lessons at a little craft store outside of Bend. 

(and why had he never considered learning this? True he had no words or pictures of his own to fill pages with, but so many of his loved ones _did_ )

The lumps of beeswax that left his hands smelling of honey as he ran them up and down lengths of string. The awl to punch holes through folded paper, and the long, stiff needle that threaded in and out, creating ever more intricate bindings. Covers made first of paper, then out of wood, leather, cloth- anything that the teacher threw at them. Going from tiny booklets, to a hundred pages, to finally large tomes, bound expertly by his hand.

He no longer had to send their older books out from the Library for repair (which made Stan, and more importantly, Stan’s wallet, happy.) He made sketchbooks for Acacia and Mabel, books full of hand-lined paper for Hank and Willow.  And Dipper got large tomes, full of blank handmade paper and handtooled leather covers, his to fill with whatever dread knowledge (or not) that he wished.

Henry made the majority of his books for Dipper, because he knew he would never be able to make enough for him.

 

do worms and other disease or pest-related happenings occur to henrys antler apples

oh dude bro pal person.

Like on one hand, I’m inclined to say no because my poor Henry bab has been through enough in his life. 

Otoh.

Henry and when the apples first come in he just wants to leave them alone, what if it hurts him to pick them (hasn’t he had enough weird shit happen to him in his life?) Turns out they’ll rot on the stem if they don’t, and after three nights of waking up to spectral worms only he can see in their bed, Henry gives in.

Henry and when he’s sick or been depressed for a long period of time, his apples become mealy, become riddled with worms and bruises.

Henry and a month before…. before, and his apples are attracting flies like no one’s business. 

 

follow up question: do henrys antlers shed like deer antlers

Nope, but what they DO is have layers peel off, like bark peeling off a birch tree. 

(The kids find out that you CAN use them to start a fire in the firepit out back, but it does make the fire burn bluish.)

 

Which of the triplets is the most Anxious™?

Acacia actually! Willow bab _does_  get anxious but she can handle it, and Hank is a chillmeister.

Acacia, on the other hand, has a very sticky sense of pride and a deep awareness of herself as The Oldest, The Bravest, and The Awesome One. Not living up to any of that makes her very anxious indeed. 


	239. Chapter 239

“Sir?”

Mabel stirred.

“Sir!  _SIR!_ ”

There were huffing and snorting noises coming from outside, heavy thuds on the floor, almost like…. Clops?

“Sir,  _sir_  you can _not_  bring a horse into the hospital-“

The door slammed open.

“GREAT FERTILIA WOMAN DID YOU MATE WITH A GIANT?”

Mabel looked over at Henry, who was holding the girls, and looking completely befuddled. Next to him, holding Hank and on this plane for the low low price of a Snickers bar, floated Dipper, looking equally confused. Though he  _shouldn’t_ since he  _knew_  their guest.

She grinned. “Hey President Trembley!”

He bounded over to her bed, took her right hand in both of his, and gave it a slightly sloppy kiss. “HELLO MY DEAR GIRL! A CLOUD WHISPERED IN MY EAR THAT MY FAVORITE SENATOR HAD SPAWNED AND CREATED NEW LIFE. ALSO I WAS INFORMED BY FIVE SQUIRRELS IN A TRENCHCOAT AND THE COFFEE GRINDS IN MY CEREAL.”

Mabel looked over to Henry, who shifted his arms to show her the girls, already awake before Quentin came in. Phew!

Quentin turned to the men.

“AND IT IS MY FAVORITE ELDRICH BEAST! GOOD DAY MY BOY! AND HERNE! GOOD TO SEE YOU! YOU LOOK HEALTHY! CAN I CHECK YOUR GUMS TO MAKE SURE?”

“Um, it’s Henry and I’d rather you not-?”

Dipper, on the other hand, was considerably less patient than Henry.

“Mr. President, I’ve told you on three separate occasions to stop calling me that.”

He paused, absentmindedly slipping a finger with blunted claw into Hank’s mouth for him to suck on. “Also, I’m pretty sure you met  _Henry_  at the wedding?”

“MY GOOD REPRESENTATIVE FROM HELL, I AM ASHAMED TO ADMIT I SPENT MUCH OF YOUR DEAR SISTER’S WEDDING IN A STARING CONTEST WITH THE SUN.”

“Er-“

“THE SUN WON BUT ONLY BECAUSE THAT RASPSCALLION CHEATED.”

The head nurse on duty popped her head in.

“ _Sir_ ,” she said, obviously long past her wits end. “Your horse just peed in the hallway. Of a maternity ward. In a  _hospital-“_

Quentin drew himself up, puffing out his scrawny chest.

“MADAM, I WILL HAVE YOU KNOW THAT MAURICE IS A HORSE AND A SCHOLAR AND A GENTLEMAN OF THE WORLD AND I HAVE TAUGHT HIM TO USE THE TOILET.”

The nurse looked at him blankly for a long second, then turned her head towards Dipper and pointed a finger at him.

“You’re going to clean this mess up once your guest goes, get it?”

Even though Dipper completely agreed, he still felt compelled to ask, “W̧̟͚̦͈̠̼͓h̛̝̳̟̟ͅat̫̮̠'s̺̰̻ ͢i̧̥͙͍n̫̻̞̬̤ ̜̯̦̹̦̙̪͟i̙̤͕ͅͅt͠ ̱̞̞͚͔̝̤f͇͉͎̗̱͓ǫ̣ͅr̢͓͈̳̺ ̩͕͕͘m̬̬̻͉͡e?”

The nurse folded her arms. “I don’t ban your sister from receiving guests for the rest of her stay or press criminal charges.”  She shut the door before Dipper could get another word out, and he winced at the one sided deal roiling in his gut.

Dipper looked at her. She shook her head. He winced.

Mabel was glad they had this conversation.  

Quentin, with his short attention span, had fixated onto the girls lying peacefully in Henry’s arms.

“HERNE MY GOOD MAN-“

“It’s Henry-“

“NONSENSE YOU ARE OBVIOUSLY HERNE. ANYWHO, MAY I PLEASE LAY HANDS ON YOUR GIRL CHILDS?” He looked over at Dipper. “AND BOY CHILD TOO.”

Dipper sniffed. “It’s  _children_  Mr. President-“

“GRAMMAR MY GOOD HORRORTERROR.” Quentin took out a handkerchief and began to wipe his hands off. The handkerchief was dirtier than his hands, which to be honest was a little concerning to Mabel, but also, kids needed to get exposed to cooties at some point eventually, right?

‘Cleaning’ finished, the president stuffed the dirty handkerchief into the depths of his hair and went on. “I WAS GIFTED WITH THE PROPHETIC SIGHT BY THE GREAT UNSWERVING FOR A PERIOD OF FOUR YEARS IN ORDER TO AID WITH MY FIGHT AGAINST THE OVERGROWN TEMPORAL INFANT-“

Dipper’s lips were moving. Was that a habit he was aware he still had? Eh. It was always good to know that Dippindots still had  _some_  things she could tease him for.

“-AND I DECIDED THAT I SHOULD BESTOW UPON YOUR WORM CHILDREN A GIFT OF THE FUTURE!”

Henry shifted. “Um, worm children?”

“GOOD HERNE, KING OF THE FOREST, LET’S BE REAL, THESE INFANTS LOOK LIKE WEIRD OVERCOOKED GRUBS RIGHT NOW.”

Mabel’s sweetie pie took a step forward to offer the girls to Quentin, then froze. He looked at her. She nodded. He was still for a second, then took a deep breath and continued walking towards the odd man.

She was so glad he trusted her.

Still, to make him feel better, she gestured for the babies. “Here, I’ll take the babies and you can do the bestow-y thing on them Quentin. Besides, they’re getting hungry so I’m going to have to feed them soon anyway.”

Henry smiled at her and she knew she made the right choice.

As Dipper and Henry awkwardly shuffled around trying to get all three babies in her arms- they had asked for the biggest room because of all the guests and babies and ended up in the smallest- Dipper sniffed.

“You _know_ Quentin,” he slyly (or rather, he thought he was being sly) said as he gave Hank over to Mabel. “You don’t really need to do this. I gave the kids their own prophecy already.”

Mabel stifled a giggle, as Henry frowned at Dipper.

“No you didn’t, you just gave them another Name from you. Unless there was something else wrapped up in those names, in which case I know we all three agreed it was best not for us to know but maybe you should-“

Dipper blushed and Mabel couldn’t hold back her laughter any more.

“Don’t you listen to Dipper, President Trembley, he’s just being a big old jealous grumpy grump.”

“Mabel! No I̛’m ̛no̕t͜!͡ “

She raised an eyebrow as she tried her best to arrange all three babies so that their heads were supported and Quentin could see him. “Remember my baby shower?”

“Which one.”

“Don’t play that game with me Dipper Pines, you _know_ which one.”

“Everyone was touching you-“he muttered darkly, and Mabel snorted.

“And _you_ were being an overprotective dork, like you are now.”

Dipper sputtered, and Mabel elected not to give him a chance to interrupt. “They’re ready Mr. President!”

Quentin opened his mouth, and then, surprisingly closed it again. He looked at Henry.

“MY GOOD HERNE, COULD YOU TELL ME WHICH BABE IS WHICH? I WOULD HATE TO ATTACH THE WRONG PROPHECY TO THE WRONG CHILD; IT’D GET ME UNINVITED FROM PANDIMENSIONAL POKER NIGHT!”

Henry looked. “It’s Hank, Willow, and Acacia, left to right.”

“GOOD GOD MAN, HOW CAN YOU TELL? IS IT YOUR GIANT SENSES? OR ARE YOUR ANTLERS TELLING YOU?”

Henry blinked. “They’re wearing the hats Mabel made them. The ones with their names on them?” He gave a pleading look at Mabel (“Can he actually read?”)

Mabel shrugged (“Maaaaybe?”)

“EXCELLENT!” Quentin stared at a spot on the wall for several seconds, before yelling “IT IS ALMOST SALMON O’CLOCK, SO I CANNOT WASTE MUCH MORE TIME.” He patted Mabel’s hand. “BUT I WILL COME BY ANOTHER DAY TO CATCH UP WITH YOU AND THE BABES. WE HAVE IMPORTANT POLICY TO DISCUSS.”

He leaned in and booped Hank’s nose. Hank looked considerably unimpressed.

“HANK PINES! ONE DAY YOU WILL HAVE LOTS OF FRIENDS. MORE FRIENDS THEN YOU WILL SOMETIMES KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH! THEY WILL BE THE GREATEST TREASURE OF YOUR LIFE. I WILL ALSO REQUIRE YOU TO DO A GREAT DEED WHEN YOU ARE THIRTY; BRING YOUR CANE.”

Dipper smirked. “He’s not going to need a cane when he’s only thirty Quentin-“

“THAT’S WHAT THE SNEEPLE WANT YOU TO THINK DEMONCHILD!” The president shook his head. “DON’T YOU READ THE NETWEBS ON YOUR MAGIC BOX?”

“I… that’s not how that-“

Quentin laid a finger on Willow’s cheek. She automatically turned her head and began to suck on it.

“I WILL TAKE YOUR SPIT AS A COMPLIMENT MADAM. WILLOW PINES, WARE THE DAY YOU SEE NO COLORS AT ALL. IT WILL BE YOUR GREATEST LESSONS BUT ALSO YOUR HARDEST PAID ONES. ALSO, YOU WILL HELP ME OUT OF A PICKLE BARREL WHEN YOU’RE EIGHT YEARS OLD. I HOPE YOU LIKE THE TASTE OF DILL BECAUSE WE WILL FEAST HEARTILY THAT DAY!”

He pulled his finger gently out of Willow’s mouth, and laid it on Acacia’s chin. After a second, he moved it to just above her right eye.

“ACACIA PINES, TAKE GOOD CARE OF THIS EYE. ONE DAY YOU WILL BE FORCED TO RELY ON IT. THE OTHER ONE YOU’RE GOOD TO POKE HOWEVER MUCH YOU WANT. YOUR TEMPER TERRIFIES ME BUT I WILL NEED IT THE SAME TIME I NEED YOUR BROTHER.” He looked over at Henry. “ALSO SHE’S ALLERGIC TO GRAPES.”

“That’s good to know-?” Henry replied, managing mostly to keep the incredulity out of his voice.

Quentin dipped down to kiss each of the triplets on their foreheads, then gave a kiss on each of Mabel’s cheeks.

“Thanks Mr. President,” she said.

“DON’T MENTION IT MY GIRL. AND DON’T FRET. WITH YOU THREE IN THEIR LIVES, THEY WILL LIVE LONG AND PROSPER. NOW IF YOU EXCUSE ME, I NEED TO TALK WITH THE MOLE PEOPLE DELEGATION BEHIND THE WATERFALLS.”

He tipped his hat at Dipper and Henry. “GENTLEMENT, GOOD DAY!” He pointed at Henry. “I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU BLOOM, IT WILL REALLY BE QUITE SPECTACULAR, JUST LIKE THE PIES!”

Quentin ran through the door. A panicked neigh, the cry of “TREMBLEY OUT”, the sound of shattering glass, and he was gone.

Mabel looked at her family. “I think someone finally showed him the internet.”

Dipper, already beginning to flicker from sight, the deal with the Snickers running out, pinched the bridge of his nose again.

“Mabel, what do you see in that guy again? He was fun when we were twelve but now-“

Mabel sniffed. “And he’s fun now! He makes _sense!_ ”

Henry came over, to stand over her and the babies.

He put her hands on her shoulders (“He’s weird but he’s your friend. I get that.”)

She leaned her head on his left hand, even as Dipper went on, heard now only by her.

(“Thanks.”)


	240. Chapter 240

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Triplets using a laser pointer on a Dipnipped Uncle

“I shouldn’t find this funny,” Henry said.

His cousin, sitting a stair step or two above him, shook her head.

“No, dude, this is fucking priceless,” Wendy replied. “I just wish I had some popcorn.”

Henry winced. “Wendy, language, please.”

Wendy rolled her eyes. “Oh come on, they’re five, not like, three. Besides, they’ve already heard it a million times over from Stan.”

There was a particularly hard thump that shook the Shack to it’s rafters, and Wendy grinned. “You know they aren’t listening to a word we’re saying anyway.”

Below them, armed with the three different colored laser pointers their Cool Aunt Wendy had brought over, the triplets were getting Dipper to run across the house. Dipper, completely blasted on some Yggdrasil a summoner had blown in his face, was currently running break ass and on all fours up and down the length of the house trying to eat the fascinating red dots in front of him. Even as Henry watched, Dipper lost his footing and powerslid across the worn wood of the living room floor, crashing once again into the wall.

“Okay.”

“Okay what?”

Henry sighed.

“This is pretty funny.”

 


	241. Chapter 241

” _How_  long do you have to be in here again?”

Mabel looked up from her scrapbook supplies that Henry had brought for her to her brother, sitting across the room. 

Eventually, he’d let the triplets go and let her or Henry or Stan or Soos or Candy or anyone else really hold them. For now his current time was- Mabel looked up at the clock on the hospital wall- five hours, and eighteen minutes.

She smiled patiently at Dipper. “You heard Dr. Freeman, Dipper. I got to stay in a week.”

“But most women who get a c-section are out after three or four days!” 

Henry looked up from his book and over to where his children were floating, to his eyes, in midair. 

“Most women don’t have triplets,” Henry gently reminded the empty chair. 

Acacia hiccuped in her sleep, and even as she saw Dipper’s face melt, so did she feel her heart swell with love. Mabel knew before she went in to the hospital that she would love her babies, but she had no idea how _much_  she was going to love them. To be sure, she was also terrified at raising three babies _at the same time_  no matter how much advice Mom had given her over the phone, and she was going to miss-

“Hey Mabes, you know, I could probably heal that wound for you, for a small price-”

“I’ll give you my placenta!”

Henry dropped his book. “What.” 

Dipper looked like he was this close to dropping the babies. " W̮̰͉̠̫̝̙ͥ͞h͕̳̟ạ̸̦̖͐̈t?”

Mabel beamed, and felt her grin grow wider. 

“Oh yeah! In fact, you can have all three even! You know, because there was one for Acacia, and one for Hank, and one for Willow-bean!” Mabel paused. “And the nurse said Hank’s was the biggest one she had ever seen! Lots to nom nom nom on there!”

The life had drained from Dipper’s face, leaving it looking pale and sallow. Henry, who had an idea where all this was going, quickly got up and began to take the babies and put them in their cots. Dipper let him.

“Mabel,” Dipper replied weakly, “I could take something else instead.”

She flapped a hand at him. “No, I insist! I mean, you know that the placenta is full of vitamin rich blood and it’s an organ I think so I bet it’d be nice and meaty-”

Dipper’s cheeks bulged slightly, like he was getting ready to spew all over the floor.

“-and I mean, you don’t even have to feel bad about eating it because like, it’s _the_  new thing for new mothers to do! I mean I was thinking about eating them myself!

“O̲͙̠͙͙̩h̹̤̠͔̠̻́ṃ͚̩̲̲̹͟y̼͓̙̙͙͢g͔̗͡o̞d̘̰̮̱͙̭͠ͅm̙a̖̘̤̖̦̭b͖͈̝̙̺͝e̲̬͍̭͈͞l͚͔̜̭̫-̬̣̫͖̪̘́”

“Pacifica recommended that I dry it out and turn it into powder so I can eat it in pill form-”

“ p̶ḽ̰̳̰͉̟͢e̶̻a̲͠s̻̰̹ͅen̥̝̪͇̼o͉̼n͎͜o̠͙̯̩͇n̙̝̤̜̝o̡͍̙̱̺͍n̞̙o̢̠͉̩̙̥̥̜-”

“-but I was thinking of grilling it up! In that one pan Henry uses for breakfast!”

Dipper face planted with a slam onto the hospital floor, and began to slowly melt into a puddle, passed out from the sheer horror of what Mabel was suggesting.

She grinned.

Henry, who to his credit was only slightly wan, asked “You were just fucking with him right?”

“Oh, yeah, totally. I mean. I’m ready to go home but like-” She waved her hand at the call button on her bed and the baby monitors, both linked back to the nurse station out in the hall. “We _all_  get a week to rest while I’m in the hospital.”

Her delightful, wonderful husband kept from blowing out a breath in relief, but, she could tell, just barely. 

“Nah, I was thinking of planting a tree in each one in the back yard instead.”

Henry gulped audibly. 


	242. Chapter 242

A pebble hit him on the head.

Dipper ignored it. 

Another pebble, this time somehow getting into his mouth.

The pebble lodged in his throat, and even though he hadn’t needed to breathe in a few millenia, Dipper still chocked on the pebble. Legs and arms flailing, he fell off the couch and with a thunk landed on the floor.

Horking out the pebble, Dipper pushed himself up to glare at his assailant.

“What the _f̵̳u̱̮c̝̻̝͍̭̗k̪̞̰̙̮͡_  Tora?”

She beamed at him, completely blase. 

“Hey Alcor.”

“What?”

“Alcor.”

“Yes?”

_“Alcor.”_

**“ W̢̳͈̗͙͙h̳͈à͈͍t͉̩̝̦?̜̙͡!̞ͅ** “ 

With the biggest, shit eating grin on her face, Torako asked, “Did you hear about the guy whose whole left side was cut off?”

What the fuck?

“Um. No. Why-”

Giggles bursting through, Torako barely managed to say,  “He’s all _right_  now!” before collapsing into laughter on the floor, clutching her sides with mirth.

Dipper felt his eye twitch.

“That’s a terrible pun,” he pointed out.

“Yeah…” Torako managed to say through her laughter, “but you still fell for it!”

Bentley, who had been doing some homework at the table, piped in. “She’s got a point.”

Dipper scowled.

“Why do I put up with you two again?”

Torako rolled over to him on the floor and plopped her head on his lap. “Because you love us.”

Fuck. 


	243. Chapter 243

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Took a wrong turn during a roadtrip

“Um, Mabel, I have a map you know-”

Mabel shook her head, and Henry got hit by flying chunks of thick brown hair. 

“I’m _fine_  Henry,” she replied, and he could tell that she was as stressed as him because her voice wasn’t as chipper as usual. “This shortcut is going to work, I promise.”

There were probably a million boyfriend advice manuals that would advise against what he was about to say but-

“Mabes, honey, you said that three shortcuts ago.”

Her head turned to look at him, robotic, stiff. Her eyes were flashing. The hair rose on the back of his neck, and it wasn’t because Dipper was in the car. Henry was viscerally aware of how badly he just fucked up. 

“ _I am a homing pigeon Henry_.” 

“Uh-”

“ _I know where we are at Henry.”_

(He was vindicated, kind of, when it ended up taking them three hours to get back to the highway. But on the whole he would have rather just used Google Maps than trust Mabel’s “magnetic pigeon skills” in the first place.)


	244. Chapter 244

For a demon, Stan thought, he was having to give Dipper a lot more lessons in the fine art of the con than he anticipated.

On the other hand, demon or not, this was still Dipper, so perhaps he shouldn’t have been surprised.

Dipper, physical for an hour in exchange for a soda with some blood dropped in, looked at the mask in his hands. It was the mask that Grunkle Stan used to scare him with that first summer. Lying in his hands, stained as they were, it just seemed kind of sad now.  
  
“Grunkle Stan, this is kind of dumb,” he said, trying his best not to sound petulant (and failing.)

Stan scowled. “Sheesh kid, there’s only one old, rude, crank allowed in this house and I’m it.”

“Uh, old-?”

“Kid, the point isn’t to be scary,” Stan went on, ignoring Dipper. “You got that covered already.”

Dipper looked down at his hands and the mask again. The claws tipping his fingers. His tounge ran across the edge of his teeth, drawing blood as it caressed his fangs. 

“Wipe that ‘more baggage than the airport’ look off your face. Makes you look like you swallowed a squirrel or something.”

Dipper, who had indeed swallowed a squirrel last week, scowled at Stan.

“ _Stan_.”

“That’s better. But look, if someone is summoning a fucking demon for fucks sake, they’re going to expect blood and guts and doom and gloom and all that crap.” 

He leaned over across the table to tap the goofy wooden mask in Dipper’s hands. “ _This_ is what they aren’t going to expect. They’re expecting the fight of their lives, and probably have every horror movie ever running through they’re heads. They’re going to be offput if you-”

“Mabel.”

It was Stan’s turn to be taken aback. “What about her?”

Dipper smiled. “Mabel told me last week I should juggle some tennis balls or do a magic trick or paint my toenails whenever a summons gets bored. I kind of blew her off but… maybe I owe her an apology?”

Stan nodded. 

“You do. Because when you cut the rug out from under people, _that’s_ what makes them scared and confused.”

Dipper grinned, teeth coated in golden blood from his tongue. 

“And that’s when I can get them.”

Stan sniffed, and wiped a fake tear away.

Dipper was still a goober, but he was a goober that learned _fast._


	245. Chapter 245

> “So.”
> 
> Dipper nodded in response. “Yeah.”
> 
> Stan rolled a beer can between his hands. The two of them sat on the old, moldy couch on the porch of the Shack. Stan had sacrificed a frog he found under the porch to keep Dipper solid and one place while they drank their beer and tried not to think about the massive elephant in the-
> 
> “You think you’re ready for this?” Stan asked, interrupting Dipper’s thoughts.
> 
> Dipper laughed and tried to play it cool. “Yeah, of course I am, why wouldn’t I be? I mean, it’s Mabel having them not me, I just live…. um, hang around here.”
> 
> Stan snorted.
> 
> “Don’t bullshit a bullshitter kid. You’re scared shitless.”
> 
> Part of him raged at that accusation, felt his blood boil with anger at the temerity and audacity of the tiny mortal next to him. He was a speck, a nothing compared to his might and-
> 
> Dipper swallowed the massive lump in his throat. 
> 
> “Yeah. Yeah I am.” He looked down at his hands. The skin was taut, young, perfect, unmarred by the scars he had gotten from falling into a rose bush when he was six. His nails were clean.
> 
> His nails were no longer nails, really. 
> 
> He looked back up at Stan.
> 
> “I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t stay here.”
> 
> “That’s some dumb bullshit.” Stan chucked his can into the yard, ‘aiming’ for Gompers like usual. The can landed at the goat’s feet (like Stan really intended) and Gompers began to happily eat the beer can. 
> 
> Dipper frowned. He  _knew_ that Stan wasn’t stupid. “Grunkle Stan, I mean it.”
> 
> Stan scratched himself and even though Dipper had seen things Man Was Not Meant to Know, the sight still horrified him. “So do I kid. I haven’t heard you say anything that dumb since Mabel’s prom.”
> 
> Dipper blushed but went on. “Triplets.”
> 
> “Yup.”
> 
> “Babies.”
> 
> “Tiny boring poop machines that throw up on you and scream all hours of the night and are going to make our lives miserable? What about them?”
> 
> Now Stan was being obtuse on purpose. 
> 
> “I shouldn’t be around them.”
> 
> “Nope, think you should.”
> 
> Why did his Grunkle have to make things harder than they really should be?
> 
> “I’m going to hurt the babies.”
> 
> Stan shook his head. “No you won’t. You’re way too much of a spaz and a worrywart to ever do that.”
> 
> “I’ll bring danger here, bring it to the Shack to the kids-“
> 
> His uncle rolled his eyes. “Wow, you’re acting like that’s something completely new or something, _real_ funny Dip.”
> 
> Why couldn’t he _see_ what Dipper was trying to tell him? “Stan, I’ve done bad things-”
> 
> “So have I.”
> 
> “No you haven’t! Not like̴̟͔ ̼͖͎I̸ ̥̙̖͓͓͜h̞̗a̫̩͍v̰̭e̫͝!”
> 
> The porch was quiet for a second.
> 
> Then Stan laughed in his face. Literally got as close to Dipper’s face as possible and let out a laugh so big and hearty that Dipper could smell the garlic and onion sardine sandwich Stan had had for lunch.
> 
> Despite himself, Dipper reared back, his over sensitive nose reeling from the reek.
> 
> “What the f̲̮͚u̜͉̱̼̩̥ͅc͏͓k̞̪͖͍̹ͅ Grunkle Stan that is so ǧ̵̻͇̙͊͑͊r͙͖͓͓͇͂ǫ̥͙͎͓̯̓͌ŝ͎͍̕s̮͈̙̲̟̽̂̑̿͂̑.”
> 
> Stan continued laughing, smacking his hand on his bare knees as he got a look at the face Dipper was pulling. Wiping tears from his eyes, Stan finally managed to choke out, “Kid, you’re… really something. Adorable. Yeah, that’s it, adorable.”
> 
> “Staaaan-“ Was that a whine in his voice. Fuck, it was. Dipper was not really doing a good job selling his case to Stan. “If only you’ve seen the things I’ve Seen, done the things I’ve Don-“
> 
> “Did you cripple a man for seventy cents and half a cigarette?”
> 
> The question came out of nowhere and completely froze him up.
> 
> “Uh, what?”
> 
> Stan was smiling.
> 
> It wasn’t a nice smile.
> 
> “Tell you what Dipper. You get back to me with all that ‘boo-hoo I’m a terrible person’ shit after you steal the shoes from the woman next to you at the shelter because you’re tired of having your feet hurt.”
> 
> Dipper didn’t want to know this, he really didn’t want to know this-
> 
> “Grunkle Stan, I didn’t-“
> 
> The smile was still there but Stan’s face around it was so painfully tired and old looking. “Come back to me when you start drooling at lost dog posters because if you can manage it, there’s a reward and a free meal in it for you.”
> 
> “Stan-“
> 
> The smile, that terrible awful con man fake plastic grin, finally drained away from Stan’s face, leaving only a tired, sad old man. Stan rested a hand on Dipper’s shoulder.
> 
> “Look Dipper. You’re a monster. So am I- and don’t even try to argue, that’s a game you will lose and you won’t like it. You’ve done terrible awful things? Me too. Can’t look yourself in the mirror? Welcome to the club. But here’s the thing.”
> 
> Stan squeezed Dipper’s shoulder hard, squeezed like it was the last chance he would ever get to do so again.
> 
> “We take what we’ve done and we own it. We own up to it, and we keep it hidden away-“
> 
> “But-“
> 
> “We keep it _hidden_. Until… until it’s needed. You hear me?”
> 
> Dipper was still for a long moment. Felt the hunger that was forever coiling in his stomach, the last remnants of soul from the day before dissolving into his system, the voice that was forever reminding him how much easier everything would be if people did as he said-
> 
> “Your sister trusts us. She trusts us to be good uncles and to love those kids. You going to let Mabel down?”
> 
> In the house, Mabel stirs in her nap as Dipper responds. **“N̶̵̖̬̫̠̳̮͔̝̜̤̕͠ͅÒ̻̤̳͙͉͉̯͟.”**
> 
> “Well there you go. We’re terrible, and we’re going to have nieces and nephews in the house.”
> 
> Stan got up and looked at Dipper, who was beginning to fade back into incorporeality.
> 
> “Are you going to deal with it like a man or take the easy way out and leave?”
> 
> Stan went inside and Dipper scowled.
> 
> He _hated_ it when Stan was right.

 


	246. Chapter 246

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 13) Planting a Garden

It had begun as a whim, really.

It seemed to Henry that everyone in his family was crafty to some extent. Mabel had… well, it was easier to list what she _didn’t_  do rather than what she did do. Acacia, frustrated at first that she couldn’t get the hang of knitting, had long since thrown herself wholeheartedly into her paints and pencils. Hank was beginning to write his own pieces for the violin, still short, but sweetly lilting regardless. And no spare piece of paper was safe in their house with Willow and her origami skills around. 

Hell, even Stan had that Pines knack for art and crafts; Henry had to live with the sometimes horrifying and downright disgusting taxidermied projects all around the Shack. 

So one day Henry had driven to the new Home Depot that had been built on the outskirts of Bend, and picked up bags of soil and fertilizer, seeds and garden tools, and four feet of metal pipe. (That last was for Mabel. He wasn’t going to ask; he had a feeling he was better off not knowing.)

He had started digging in the backyard that afternoon when he was met by his eldest daughter.

“Whatcha doing Daddy?” she asked.

He grunted as he thrust the shovel into the earth again, pushing against it with his foot to bring the soil up.

“Planting a garden ‘Cacia.”

She crossed her arms. “With what?”

Henry looked down at the bag off to the side full of seed packets.

“Oh lets see. I got us tomatoes and zucchini and some nice bell peppers and-”

“ _Daaaad!”_ Acacia started to stomp her foot, but then put it gently back down; she had imperiously told everyone at dinner last week that since they were starting third grade, she was personally going to start acting “more mature.” Predictably, there had been mixed results. 

Undeterred, she went on. 

“You can just get all of that at the store!”

Henry nodded. “I can.”

Another thought occurred to her. “Oh, or you could have Uncle Dipper just grow it in a second for you!”

“I absolutely can.”

“Dad _listen_ to m- wait, why are you agreeing with me?”

Henry smiled. “Because you’re right.”

She had walked over next to him, and was now looking at the freshly turned earth. She looked back up at him. 

“I am?”

“Yup. But let me ask you this. Why do you draw flowers?”

Acacia scowled. “What do you mean?”

Henry dug his shovel in for another load of dirt.

“I mean, at all those hobby and house stores your mother takes you to there’s tons of pictures of flowers already made that we can buy.” The soil was gently set onto the pile growing next to him. “I could even print off pictures of all the flowers I want at the library.”

“So?”

“So knowing there’s pictures in the world of flowers already, why do you still draw them?”

“Because it’s fun! Because I like flowers and they’re pretty! And because… because…” She hid her face in his side, burrowing into his sweater.

“Because I made them and they’re mine,” Acacia finished. “Mine and not no one else’s. My art that _I_  made.”

Henry laid his less dirty hand on top of Acacia’s head, brushing over her frizzly red curls.

“Well, that’s how I feel about all this.”

She looked up at him.

“Really?”

Henry nodded. “Really really.”

Acacia looked at the dirt for a long moment, then smiled.

“Cool.”

“I know,” he agreed. He laid the shovel down on the ground and held up the bag with the seeds.

“Want to help me plant these?”

“Can I order them into a smiley face?”

Uh oh. “Um…”


	247. Chapter 247

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some Questions from Tumblr!

What was the worst (non demonic) cooking catastrophe to hit the Pines' kitchen?

Acacia: Less a cooking catastrophe, and more “the day babby Acacia found out vanilla does not taste like it smells by chugging the entire tiny bottle in one go.”

Hank: The first time he tried to make a pitcher of Kool-Aid; he followed the directions on the pack…. but poured two cups of sugar into an individual cup as opposed to a gallon pitcher. #bless

Willow: Is currently on her eighth waffle maker, refuses to switch to pancakes. 

* * *

[theitalianscribe](http://theitalianscribe.tumblr.com/): When was the first time Henry called Stan Grunkle? 

Henry doesn’t really call Stan “Grunkle.” Henry in many ways is very formal and reserved, and that term doesn’t come to his mouth easily, except telling the kids something WRT Stan.

But here’s the thing. 

At some point four or five months into courting Mabel, “Mr. Pines” slowly morphs into just “Stan.” Soon it’s “Stan, do you want a beer from the fridge?” or “Stan, let me get those books for you,” instead of the awkward and vaguely scared silences that Stan had gotten used to. 

Did Hank ever date any supernatural beings?  

One of his boyfriends in high school was Tommy Tarantella, who as a were-swan and the football team’s quarterback held the school record for most turnovers allowed in a season and most bones broken on the field. (People with bird bones should probably not play contact sports.)

When did Reina start having a crush on Acacia? 

[A few months after Acacia does](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=http%3A%2F%2Farchiveofourown.org%2Fworks%2F2421911%2Fchapters%2F6949787&t=MjM2ZTNiNzE3MjM5ZGQ2MjU2MzZiMGM0ODkyNWRjZDNkNmFiNjc5YSxQejhZVGZNdw%3D%3D&b=t%3AS3ysjbPhz5pOAapDaatLbQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fseiya234.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F155833873334%2Ftheitalianscribe-when-was-the-first-time-henry&m=1)! She doesn’t admit it for a long time for much of the same reasons. 

Does Willow live in the Shack or next to it (when she took up the Library)? 

In the Shack! She has all of her foster kids to take care of after all, and it just makes sense. 

What is everyone’s favorite ice cream flavor?

Henry: Pistachio

Acacia: Rocky Road

Hank: Coffee

Willow: Chocolate chip cookie dough

Dipper: tie between  _t̜̳̻h͇e҉͕̲͓̘͕̠ s͚̥͡o͔̹͡u͔̤͖̯̝̣̩l̶̬͎̖̫͈͖ͅs̳̰̗̹͎͔ ̣̦̻͖̕ͅo̼͙͔̖͙̝̗͡f̢̝̲̗̗͓͉ͅ ̯̣̜͠t͖̞̹͇̩̻h̟̯̖̮e̗̼̙͎̯̳͚ ̨̟̹̲̣d̡͙̱̥̮a͏͕m͓̬̪̭̩n̰̖̟͙e̦͉̤d̠͓͈̳̗̖͙͠_ and Butter Pecan.

* * *

What Hobbies do the Triplets Acquire as Adults?

Willow: Watch repair and clock making. It helps her turn her brain off for a few hours, especially since her empathy continues to grow stronger after she has her daughter.

Hank: Playing pinball at the local hipster arcade. It gets to a point that for his 45th birthday the Crew surprises him with an old generic pinball machine that a friend of a friend of Kiyo’s found.

Acacia: Drag race nights at the local race track. IE, “enter your own car” race nights. Her little sedan isn’t souped up or anything, but she loves being able to drive as batshit as she wants. Occasionally she wins a race through sheer verve, nerve, lack of fear, and slight cheating.

* * *

Do Henry and Mabel's family ever have any pets (besides Waddles and Gompers, the immortal power couple)?

GOOOAT AND A PIG!

Ahem.

Yes, the family did have pets, but not until the kids moved out.

For Mabel, no one will compare to Waddles, who lived a remarkably, totally not helped in any way shape or form, long time, until she was 26. (I’m going to retcon here and say that Waddles was the Flower Pig at the wedding, alongside Gompers the Ring Goat.) And whenever she does need some animal companionship, there’s Gompers, who over the years grows to let Mabel do things like braid his fur and put flower crowns on him.

Besides, she always likes to answer, especially when the kids are growing up, they already have a pet- Dipper! :D

Henry always wanted a cat. But first there was the kitten he tried to save when he was little, and failed horribly. Then there was Dipper’s frequent and oft-mentioned dislike of cats and well. Some things just stick with you.

But a few months after the kids leave the house, some whim inside of him makes him turn left instead of right on the way home one day from work, to the Roadkill County Animal Shelter. A phone call and some picture texts later, and Henry comes home with a tiny kitten the shelter had named Terry, but after three days at the house was renamed Pooter by Mabel.

Pooter, who ends up being a Maine Coon and thus gets massive, loves Henry. Also, staring at Dipper for hours on end.

 

 

 

 

 


	248. Chapter 248

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A Day in the Life of Mabel Pines
> 
> Normally I don’t like leaving things unfinished but this has been in the drafts for almost a year now and I haven’t touched it so I’m releasing it out of the inbox and into the wild. Have a beginning and hell, feel free to finish it!

**6:21:** You wake up! And considering the lack of noise in the house, you have won the daily Waking Up First Because Who Wants to Waste Their Day contest. Yay!!! You turn over in bed and look at your husband, who is still fast asleep. Your heart swells with love. 

You still can’t believe you’re married. 

You still can’t believe he’s real. 

Better poke him and make sure he’s real.

 **6:23:**  Apparently Henry doesn’t like being poked in his man nipples repeatedly. Hey, not your fault that mipples are funny.

 **6:24:** Heh. Mipples.

 **7:30:**  When you get downstairs to start making breakfast, you notice that Dipper is already sitting in Stan’s chair, watching TV. His wings are curled around him tightly and his hat is almost touching his head rather than floating high like usual. You’re going to have to deal with that later. But first-

[p>“Stan’s going to make you change the channel,” you tell him, like you say every morning.  
  


“He can tr͎̭̬͓͝y̜,” Dipper replies, like he does every morning. 

You both know that as soon as Stan wakes up, Dipper is going to cave and give Stan his easy chair and control of the remote. 

You know Dipper wouldn’t have it any other way. 

 **8:21:**  You wave as Henry runs out the door with his lunch, wearing the sweater vest you made him for Christmas last year. You wonder if he’s discovered the secret messages you knitted on the inside of the vest.

Probably not yet, since he hasn’t looked at you and blushed beet red when he wears it. 

 **9:16** : You settle in for a morning of knitting. You and Grunkle Stan trade off. He runs the Library in the morning, leaving you time to make stuff for your etsy store, and then you take over in the afternoon. When you started  _Better With Sweaters!!!_ , he had made noises about running the Library full time, but you turned him down. You liked working at the Library! Which is true.

But. 

Grunkle Stan is old. Grunkle Stan took you and Dipper in when home didn’t feel like home any more. Even without Dipper’s weird demon soul color sight thing, you could see sometimes the years of pain and hustle and hard work weighing on him like a rock. He’d never stop working, you know that. But you also know that Grunkle Stan deserves a chance to goof off and do weird old man things, like fish and play cards at the VFW and get a life time ban from every VFW in a 90 mile radius. 

He took care of you. It’s your turn.

 **9:17:** Also, you get the best tips and news listening to people work at the Library.

 **10:07:**  You look up at Dipper who’s with you on the couch. He’s sleeping; no, not quite. He doesn’t sleep any more, not like the way you sleep. He describes it like “turning off the TV and I’m the TV.” Sleeping or not-sleeping, there’s still a big ol thing of golden drool coming out of his mouth and eating away at the fabric of the couch.

You wonder what he does when he’s not with you. Or rather, when he’s not with you and also not doing demony things. He lives with you, eats dinner with you and Stan and Henry, hogs the shower even though he doesn’t need to shower anymore (not that you’re going to tell him that) and gets chased by Gompers once a week. 

But he doesn’t have a bedroom in your home. Turned it down when you offered after you moved out of the attic. He has his own little part of the Dreamscape, you know that, met the Flock and everything. And it wouldn’t be fair to ask him to hang around when you all are asleep and not doing anything, and he’s a grown up and there’s nothing wrong with doing things separate from each other but- You blow out a breath.

He’s family, he’s a part of your family… but it’s like he’s not, like becoming a demon severed some part of him forever from you. Like he’ll be forever on the outside looking in. 

You rub your tummy, still flat, still only a guess that there might be someone, or someones knowing their family, in there. Would he stay, once they came? Would he be able to deal, if there was someone (someones) who she would put above herself, above him? Would he blip out one day and never come back would he-

You sigh, and suck back the tears from your eyes. Then you poke him awake before he destroys the couch with his demon spit again.

 **11:38:** You pull up and park in front of Candy and Grenda’s stores. They had bought an old building on the square last year with a little help from Marius though they got a sweetheart deal on it. Mainly because it was about to fall down. But with some (a lot) of elbow grease and blood and other liquids from you and Soos and Wendy and everyone, they had opened up shop a few months ago. You look in your bag to make sure you have everything: leashes and harnesses for critters of all sizes for Grenda, and gun and sword holster covers for Candy. All in every color yarn that you could get, and decked out in beads and sequins, of course.

Business was booming for you and for them, and the sun was out and everything was beautiful! Maybe they’d both be up for lunch after this?

 **12:02:** You scream and even though everyone at Greasy’s knows you, they still turn around and stare for a second. Oops. Toning it down you look at Grenda.

“When are you going to ask him?”

Grenda closed the ring box and tucked it back away in her purse. “I’m going to Austria next Saturday. I’m going to ask his dad for permission then ask him.”

You grab a wad of napkins to wipe your face off, and Candy does the same.

“Can I make your dress?” you ask, designs and swatches and fabrics already swirling in your head.

“Uh, I’ve wanted you to do that since we were twelve!” Grenda says with a grin, and this time all three of you break down into sobs and laughing.

 **1:15:** You’re about to step foot into the Library to take over for Stan when he meets you at the doorway, holding up a hand.

“Your brother’s got a big stick up his ass right now,” Grunkle Stan grates out in his gravelly voice.

“You seen him?”

Stan shook his head. “No, but his moping is rubbing off on everyone.”

You do your best to peek around Grunkle Stan, and it’s true. Everyone you can see does seem… off. You sigh, then put a big smile on your face. No need to worry Grunkle Stan or get him more down than he already is.

“I’m on it!”

He reaches down and ruffles your hair like you’re twelve all over again.

“I know kiddo.”

 **1:17:** You have a glass of Mabel Juice first though, because even though you should be thinking about Dipper, you also know that whatever is wrong with him can probably keep for another five minutes while you get a drink.

 **1:38:** He’s a wreck, your brother.


	249. Chapter 249

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Superheros-Dip/Mable/Henry

There are three of them.

The Sight, the Heart, the Might. 

Nothing escaped the purview of the Sight. _N͏͇̙̱o̪ͅt͕̱̳h̷ḭ͚̱̝͎̖͘ng̱._ From the smallest misdeed to the most heinous of crimes, he saw it all through his many eyes (were they physical? were they metaphorical? No one could really say.)

He looked at you and knew everything about you. He didn’t really seem to care much for others; he was above them, or he chose to scorn them before they did the same to him. He was cold, he was fury, and many called him The Demon as often as they did The Sight. 

The Sight was the moon, was the cold night water that would drown you or freeze you. 

His sister, on the other hand, was the sun, was clear blue skies and warm water just calling for you to jump in and play. She was the Heart and where her brother was feared, she was beloved. 

What did the Heart do? Nothing, snorted the cynics of the city, but everyone ignored them because in this instance, they were fools. A word from the Heart would bring hope to thousands, maybe even millions, would inspire armies, would raise the recently dead. She was the light in the dark, the second third eighth chance, she was life incarnate, everything that was good and weird and wondrous about the world.

She could also, unlike the other two, fly, which was a pretty sweet bonus.

And then there was her husband, the Might.

He was gentle. He was soft. He was kind. Those were all good things for a strong man to be. 

His strength was the strength of the forests, of fang and hunger, of nature red in tooth and claw. When his other side arose, the city trembled as the forest, even if only temporarily, overtook it. Ironically, it was the Sight and the Heart that did the majority of the heroing, and the Might that rarely saw the light of day. 

Everyone, foe and friend, preferred it that way. 

Heart and Sight and Might. Strong on their own but stronger together. 


	250. Chapter 250

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> verisimilitude grunkle stan

Grunkle Stan cracked his knuckles, the noise of the crowd covering the sound, and got his heisting hand good and ready.

Ahead, his target walked on unaware, braying into his cell phone. Out of the back pocket of his stupid three hundred dollar jeans was his wallet, practically hanging out for everyone to see and anyone to take. It looked nice and fat too, bulging with plastic and paper. 

Cut _Stan_  off in traffic would he? Flip his car off with impressionable young children inside? Oh Stan was going to show him alright. No one flipped off Stan Pines and got away with it!

Stan’s hand began to casually reach forward as he got closer to the asshole- and then a tiny hand grabbed one of his fingers.

Stan looked down, to see Hank staring back up at him, hazel eyes big and wide. 

“Grunkle Stan, what’re you doing?” Hank asked. “Are you saying hi to people?”

Fuck.

Fuck goddamnit shit fuck crap fuck it all to hell _damnit_

Mabel and Dipper actually had these kids believing he was a… a… 

Stan shuddered slightly with disgust.

-good person.

Hank smiled at him, gap toothed as he lost two teeth in a row last Saturday. His little overalls had monkeys on them. 

Stan blew out his breath, and with only slight pain, bent over to pick Hank up in his arms, causing his nephew to giggle.

“Yeah buddy, I am. I think they’ll be more likely to say hi to you.”

Who the kids thought he was? That wasn’t true.

But they thought so, so he should probably _try_  and live up to it, damnit.

(That being said, he did get close enough to trip that douchebag on his way to the cotton candy booth. There was only so much goodness Stan could manage in a day.)  


	251. Chapter 251

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> theitalianscribe said: Hank, “no”

You were smart. You were prepared. You thought six steps ahead. You had to be all that, if you were trying to sell coke and fairy dust in Portland.

(The street name for the combination was jank but that was just so… inelegant.)

But you were smart, you knew all the right ears to whisper into, all the right pockets to stuff, the best demons to summon for the really dirty work. Who to shmooze with, who to ignore, and who to bury.

And for the last ten years it had worked. You had worked, you had risen to the top, because you were smart, you were better than others in your business. You played it cool, you didn’t blow all your money on blow and cars.

You had a plan after this, one that involved leaving the rain and grey and setting up on a beach for the rest of your life.

But now? Now it felt like the city itself was after you.

First your pet cops stopped taking your bribes. Then they got fired, replaced with busybodies who didn’t know when to look the other way. You had tried to send some of your men to a detective’s house, to send a message to her, and more specifically her family.

When you spoke to Gregorio in the hospital, he was very upset that you had failed to mention that Olivia Kent had fucking trolls guarding her house.

“What trolls?” you couldn’t help but ask. But deep down you knew.

He was a mild mannered computer programmer who had worked for various start-ups throughout Portland. He was probably the tallest redhead in the tri-state area, a humble community organizer, and he and his wife just had their second child. He was just a normal, average Portlander struggling to make rent like everyone else, yet you knew way, way too much about him and his personal life.

He had a hundred different names but you refused to use any of them on general principle; you just called him Mr. Pines.

Honestly. You had no idea why he was interfering with your affairs. “Jank” (if you got through this, a serious rebranding of your product was in order) only had a measurable effect on humans; everyone else it just made them vaguely queasy or did nothing at all. The only thing you could think of was your roll-out of a new batch throughout the local high schools; the coke in that batch had been cut with heroin instead of talc like usual. The waste of it made you ill every time you thought of it. That heroin had a street value almost as high as jank. For that little stunt, you made damn sure heads in your organization rolled. You were this close to breaking your personal vow to never do anything stupidly evil overlord-esque and pickle one of them as a future example.

Oh and twenty kids had died too, but they didn’t bother you. They were old enough to know the risk they were taking, old enough to take responsibility for their own bad choices.

And it shouldn’t have bothered that damn preter-lover who had set up shop in Smith Park. You were content to leave him and his alone, and you thought that he would do you the same courtesy.

Evidently not.

You could deal with cops, even ones that no longer knew their place; it just made your life easier to not have to was all. But then your people on the city council stopped answering your calls or returning your messages. Businessmen (on the ‘right’ side of the law) and socialites, all of who had sought your company, your support, your favor, now couldn’t distance themselves from you fast enough. Evidently the illicit thrill they got from knowing you was no longer enough. One by one, your business associates, from your muscle to your brains to your money pushers, each began to drop like flies. Some were arrested, some decided to leave your employ for a one way trip to New Zealand, and others just simply vanished. Every demon you had summoned to take care of this problem for you (a stupid move you knew but you were starting to get a little desperate) had taken one look at you, and refused to have anything to do with you, no matter what you offered.

You noticed little things too, little things that before this new age of magic, back from before the world had ended, you would have never paid any mind to but-

But.

But you never hit a green light any more. The light turned immediately red every time you rolled up to an intersection. Every. Single. Light. It had gotten to the point that no one in your organization would ride in the car with you anymore. In the height of rose season, the rose bushes in your front yard had withered and shriveled to dust. Not only your roses, but _any_ rosebush you passed by, to the point that you were kindly, but definitely _dis_ invited from your chairperson position at the Rose Festival this year. Despite using the same amount of resources you usually did, you had gotten a five figure water bill in the mail that the water company refused to budge on. Any beer you got from a local brewery soured as soon as it hit your lips, your house had three kinds of rare fungus in the insulation and no hotel could make room for you for an extended stay, and in your dreams nightly the White Stag hunted you down and tore your innards out with his bright neon teeth.

Oh yes.

You weren’t an idiot, and you hadn’t gotten where you were by ignoring the obvious signs around you. You had marshalled your remaining people and resources last night, and brought them together for a war council here in your warehouse on the docks.

To be honest, you knew that this was going to end in a confrontation, and end soon. And despite yourself, you still had a tiny flair for the dramatic that made you want to have said confrontation in a thematically appropriate place.

You had expected a fight, but you hadn’t expected a fucking _slaughter._

Half of the complex was currently burning, thanks to the dragon who had aimed her flame with pin point precision. Men who you had seen break kneecaps and slit throats without a second thought were currently running through the halls screaming, chased by creatures that weren’t even six inches tall. Downstairs, you could only hear thumps and crashes, but you knew that said noises were due to a massive troll and a diminutive little girl systematically opening all of your file cabinets, dumping them on the floor, and letting a living flame light them up.

The tide was coming in, coming and creeping up and over the dock, bringing with it seals with improbably pink splotches on them and piercings on their fins.

But you were smart. You were prepared. You thought six steps ahead. And while having a secret bunker to ride out this storm was kind of gauche sounding now that you actually said the words out loud (or at least in your head) you were still so glad to have it.

You walked briskly down back halls and through trap doors. Occasionally your wrist comm would flash footage from the security cameras, and you winced as they mercilessly continued to show you the piece by piece destruction of the business you had taken fifteen years to build. You breathed in through your mouth, out through your nose, and tried to relax as you got closer to your safe room, entering into the labyrinth that hid your bunker in the basement. You knew this thing was more than likely liable to happen; perhaps you wouldn’t be in Fiji like you wanted, but St. Croix was nothing to sneeze at. It was only a one bed bungalow, but it was still surf, sun, and no questions asked. You-

Thump.

What was that?

Thump.

You picked up your pace, eyes peeled, but the dust was thick and heavy and undisturbed all around you.

Nothing could get in here. You had paid an exorbitant amount of money to ensure that.

Thump.

It sounded more like a dragging sound, the sound of a body being pulled down a hall.

Thump.

It didn’t matter. Once you got through the door and into the bunker, you’d be safe, the building could burn down around you and actually you were kind of hoping it did? It would make things so much easier. You opened the door and hurried in, shutting and locking it behind you. You heard the series of whirs and pops and pocket explosions that signaled the wards both physical and metaphysical slamming into place.

“Hello.”

You turned around.

A red-headed man was sitting in your recliner in the corner. He was dressed in black jeans, combat boots, and a faded Oregon State sweatshirt. There were flecks of blood mixed in with the freckles on his face. Next to him, the source of the dragging noise, was a gaudy cane topped with a piece of amber. Oh yes; his kneecap had been shattered so bad that not even the latest in magitech had been able to completely repair it. A tiny part of you was oddly satisfied to know what the weird dragging sound was.

You nodded your head. You were civilized, you could be polite.

“Mr. Pines.” You walked to the bar, and pulled out a bottle of bourbon. “Would you like a drink?”

He shook his head. “No, thank you, though I do appreciate it.”

You poured yourself a glass, and tried to not notice the slight shake in your hands.

You raised your glass to him.

“To business.”

He nodded his head. “To doing the right thing.”

God. What a sanctimonious _asshole._

You took a drink. He continued to sit in the recliner, the one that was ergonomically adjusted to your body, and maybe you shouldn’t be salty about the fact that _he_ was sitting in it, but damnit you were.

“You do realize, Mr. Pines, that I am going to have to kill you.”

He nodded. “Makes sense.”

You grimaced. “I must congratulate you however, on the dismantling of my business, and my life’s work.”

There was a hard glint in his eye as you said that, a clenching of his jaw. “I don’t think much of your work, I must admit.”

You tried very, very hard to keep the grin off your face, and succeeded only barely. “You don’t have to think.” You couldn’t help but add, “You just have to die, Hank Pines.”

You drained the last of your bourbon, and perhaps it was only then that Mr. Pines saw the sigils etched faintly in the bottom of your glass. You saw them yourself out of the corner of your eye and remembered-

(bright daylight on the winter snow, your hands covered in blood, and at your feet your mother, your father, your sister sobbing, crying with snot running down their faces, begging you not to do this as you offered their meat and their souls to)

-nothing much at all. Other than drinking from this glass would summon one greater than even Alcor himself.

They Who Walk Along Side.

You will lose a limb, in addition to what you have already offered, in exchange for their help. But it’s worth it; you’ve already lost everything else, what’s a leg or arm (NOT a head, you’re not that dumb) in addition?

Around the recliner, wisps of dark smoke began to coalesce into existence, the being arising from them too terrible, too beautiful, too grand for your mind to fully comprehend. Occasionally you thought you caught a glimpse of eye of tentacle of limb but then your brain refused to know any more and your eyes went back to seeing only smoke.

Mr. Pines, you noticed, did not seem to be affected as you.

“I call upon thee, thee who hides in the shadows, who lives at night, who constantly lurks and hide, They Who Walk Along Side-“ you begin, feeling a tingling in your left leg (annoying, but doable) but then-

Then the shadows begin to swirl around Mr. Pines’ head, curling gently, ever so gently around his forehead, like a lover’s kiss on your sweaty chest and

And

And the shadows go away, the smoke dissipates, and Hank fucking Pines is still sitting there in _your_ chair looking unperturbed as ever, and you’re mad, you’re so fucking mad because a small stupid part of you knows that this is it.

This is where it ends.

Your mouth hasn’t caught up to your mouth and it creaks out, “But, how?” (Oh god if this is it, those better not be your last words.)

He smiles wryly.

“My friends beat your friends, I’m afraid. But. Business. I hear the cops coming.”

How does he know that? You can’t hear shit down here.

He pushes himself out of the recliner, and you can tell that even that slight movement costs him a fair bit, the cold of the basement having sunk deep into his ruined knee and festering there. He begins to shuffle towards you, an old man’s movement in a body still so young.

“This is the end, I’m afraid.”

You throw the glass at his chest and while he’s still confused, you whip the gun out of your waistband and shoot-

Well, that’s what you intended, before Pines’ cane lashes out and strikes the gun from your hand. It flies across the room, and it’s a minor miracle that it doesn’t go off when it lands against one wall.

It was worth a try.

He keeps on shuffling towards you, limping heavily in the cool room, until he stands in front of you.

His eyes, once a warm hazel, are now a dark, cold brown.

“I was there all week, you know? In Albina.” He closed his eyes; you didn’t even think about striking out at him. “I went to every funeral. I had mothers weep on my shoulder and fathers try and shake my hand, and cousins and siblings punch me in the gut.” He opened his eyes again, and were they even darker than before? No, everyone knew that Hank Pines was as vanilla human as could be. “Seventeen funerals. The oldest was only fifteen.”

You rolled your eyes. Seriously, this mawkishness was exasperating. “So? They were messing around with something that could kill them and it did, so what?”

Hank Pines went very, very still.

“The city doesn’t hold the same view,” he finally managed to say.

You snorted. If you lived according to the dictates of the masses, you would most certainly _not_ be in this position right now. “I ask you again Mr. Pines. So what?”

“Perhaps you need a new perspective on life,” he replied quietly, and before you knew what was going on, his hands, calloused and freckly, fell upon your cheeks. “Say, from the point of view of those whose children you killed.”

His lips fell upon your forehead, and then the world around you dissolved in pain, pain like you never knew could exist, pain like the world was ending like your body was tearing in half like everything you valued being lost in a fire like you wanted to cry until there was no more liquid in you like everything you were was suddenly

–

Hank let the person go.

They fell gently to the floor.

He looked at the corpse lying there, the corpse that he made.

(that we made, a woman spoke in his ear, and for a split second his bones were the rafters and dry wall of the warehouse he stood in-)

It never got easier. But it had to be done.

Limping, Hank turned and walked out of the door, leaving the body behind him in the dark.  


	252. Chapter 252

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> @soflashtasitc: Henry Pines, bedtime

Mabel vibrated in the bed and prepared to take mental notes. She had created a forty page manifesto, currently only in her head, true, but still _really important Dipper_ , about people’s pajama choices and what it said about them. 

There were even illustrations. She was very proud.

And now- Mabel blushed- it was the first time her and Henry were sleeping together… well, _that_  wasn’t quite true. First time falling asleep on purpose in the same bed, rather.

As she heard Henry rustling in the bathroom down the hall, she drew pictures in her head of what he would wear. Would he have a three piece suitjama set, striped or covered in duckies? She imagined bottoms four inches too short for Henbone, his feet sticking out really super cute. Did he have a night cap for his amazing hair? 

Mabel wrinkled her nose. That was probably too much to hope for. 

Maybe, _just maybe_ … he slept in his undies. That was good.

Even better- nothing. Nothing would be obviously be best. 

The bathroom door opened and footsteps came down the hall.

Mabel bit her lip.

This was going to be good. 

Henry stepped into the doorway. He was wearing a heavily stained old sweatshirt that had clearly been Manly Dan’s as it was four sizes too big, and read “Gravity Falls Meese Festival 1987.” The sweatpants were his, considering they were branded with Oregon State, but like the sweatshirt they were far too big for him, so that the bottoms actually pooled around his feet, hiding those cutie patooties. 

Henry blushed as he saw her looking at him. 

“I get cold pretty easy,” he said, a hand behind her head.

Mabel smiled.

She could get used to this.

“I can think of a few ways to keep you warm at night,” she rasped.

(thirty minutes later, Henry wasn’t complaining but well, when Mabel said that, he was thinking she meant… something else. Not four electric blankets, a hot water bottle under his pillow, and a pair of socks two inches thick.)


	253. Chapter 253

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A whollllle bunch of tumblr asks (thus the wonky formatting)

> **What’s one thing each of them always carry with them?**

Acacia: Her keychain. However, Acacia is a massive magpie, and also picks up keychains from every place she’s ever visited, from various item promotions, beaded keychains her kids and niblings make her-

(her key chain currently weighs two pounds)

Hank: [An adder stone.](http://t.umblr.com/redirect?z=https%3A%2F%2Fen.wikipedia.org%2Fwiki%2FAdder_stone&t=MTRjM2MzMzYxOTc3Y2ZmZmRmMjlhZjJiMTRjNWU0NmViZDgyZWUwNCxqTEVZalVtMg%3D%3D&b=t%3AS3ysjbPhz5pOAapDaatLbQ&p=http%3A%2F%2Fseiya234.tumblr.com%2Fpost%2F157023414759%2Feven-more-triplet-questions&m=1) Despite common belief from before the Transcendence, they don’t actually have any magical power. But its a stone Hank found in the woods one day, and it’s a good fidget tool in his pocket. 

Willow: A swiss army knife. But the kind that comes with 30-35 attachments, because you can never bee too sure. 

> **What are their feelings regarding fog?**

Acacia and Hank: meh.

Willow: Absolutely loves it; it reminds her of her dreams. 

> **How do they feel about the banjo?**

Willow and Hank: Cannot stand it at all.

Acacia: Fucking loves it; both genuinely and also to annoy the shit out of her dear siblings. 

> **Can they dance? If so what kind of dancing?**

Willow: Dabbled in ballet exercise classes so some ballet moves.

Acacia: Wild, arrhythmic, thrash, dance party of one.

Hank: Um. Well. He’s got that sway and shuffle thing you see at high school dances down. 

 

> **What do they do to relax when they don’t have a lot of time?**

Acacia: Doodles in the mini-sketchbook she keeps in her purse. 

Hank: He has a key chain Rubik’s Cube he usually whips out in times like these. 

Willow: A massive sucker for mobile phone games, like Phrases with Pals, and Gem Switch. 

> **Do they like black licorice? Candy corn? Cilantro? Tootsie Rolls?**

Acacia: Loves all four, does not understand the fervent distaste of candy corn.

Hank: Hates the taste of licorice and candy corn, Tootsie Rolls get stuck in his teeth, and cilantro makes him sneeze.

Willow: Ambivalent except for black licorice, which she keeps a stock of at all times. 

> **Which of them are night owls? Which of them are early birds?**  

Acacia: Regularly works until four or five am, would sleep until 2pm if Reina would let her.

Hank: Up at 6am every day, stays up until wee hours doing Crew business quite often. Never seems to have a problem with this. Everyone kind of hates him for this. 

Willow: Can either stay up late or wake up early as needed, but ABSOLUTELY needs exactly eight hours asleep or she will be a total bear to be around. 

 

> **What are everyone’s favorite hot drinks?**

Acacia: Mulled cider when she was young, mulled wine as an adult

Hank: Green tea.

Willow: Hot chocolate, with a half pound of marshmallows and whipped cream on top. 

> **How did they do in PE?**

Acacia: The only class she got solid 100s in all 13 years of school. That jerk that can climb the rope in thirty seconds.

Hank: Zero eye/hand coordination but great at running and was on the cross-country team in High School.

Willow: Usually had to sit out due to her asthma, but when she was in, excellent at pegging people in the head with balls ON COMPLETE ACCIDENT.

> **What was their favorite book on their high school required reading list?**

Acacia: Timeline

Hank: The Decameron

Willow: The Scarlet Letter 

 

**What was the worst (non demonic) cooking catastrophe to hit the Pines' kitchen?**

Acacia: Less a cooking catastrophe, and more “the day babby Acacia found out vanilla does not taste like it smells by chugging the entire tiny bottle in one go.”

Hank: The first time he tried to make a pitcher of Kool-Aid; he followed the directions on the pack…. but poured two cups of sugar into an individual cup as opposed to a gallon pitcher. #bless

Willow: Is currently on her eighth waffle maker, refuses to switch to pancakes. 

 

**We often see Henry react composed or withdrawn, but what are some things that make him giddy with child-like excitement?**

  1. Books. Yes _obvs_  because he’s a librarian but for a babby Henry, books were his first form of escape from a very long and frankly quite terrible childhood. So when one of his favorite authors drops a new release or he comes across a rare book either at the town library or at the Shack, Henry goes nuts. In his own Henry style.
  2. Solving crossword puzzles. (Dipper spoiled the answers for Henry in the first month he was living in the Shack….. at least until Henry shoved a literal pencil up Dipper’s nose. After that, he left Henry alone.)
  3. Occasional drunkenness. This only happens once every blue moon, but once in awhile, Mabel can convince Henry to let his hair down and by beer four he usually is very adorkable and squeaky.
  4. Armadillos. Henry can’t explain it either. But they are very wonderful, also did you know armadillos are always born as a set of quadruplets and are the only other species besides humans to be susceptible to leprosy and-



 

> **If they had to take a different major than the one they did, what would their major have been?**

Acacia: TBH, would have probably been happy just not going to college in the first place; honestly didn’t see the need for it. Most likely to have been a plumber or an electrician (#gone to trade school) if she hadn’t been into art.

Hank: Psychology, or sociology, because he is interested in how people think. Because of course.

Willow: Electrical Engineering. Or really any kind of engineering. She’s not the best at math, tbh, but she loves things that require intense focus and study.

> **What’s their favorite alcoholic drinks?**

Acacia: Fruity, tropical, trashy, usually involving lots of rum.

Hank: LBR, Hank is a total hipster _AND_  he lives in Portland, so craft beer, all the way.

Willow: A good sifter of whiskey.

> **Favorite breakfast foods?**

Acacia: Oatmeal; It keeps you regular!

Hank: Grits. He likes the texture.

Willow: Fruity Pebbles mixed with Lucky Charms. 

> **Do they care about their headphone quality or are they listening to shitty youtube rips of pop songs through tiny generic earbuds?**

Hank: You know Bose or Beats headphones? Yeah, Hank bab has like four levels above that. is a total music quality snob. Owns vinyl.

Acacia: Doesn’t give a shit.

Willow: Also doesn’t give a shit about earphone quality, but feels bad about ripping stuff from youtube so she gets it from iTunes.

 

**good job on your phd progress!! & if Henry was a dog what kind of dog would he be**

I don’t know much about dogs so I’m just going to say Big (and very patient around Mabel the Corgi)

Now, if Henry was a cat, I’d say he’s a Norwegian Forest Cat or a Maine Coon (both also Big lol)

 

**What's Henry's favorite ice cream flavour?**

Butter pecan

 

**Artistically speaking, what are Hank's origins?**

Hank is part the Seventh Doctor, part Carrot Ironfounderson, and part my brother. 

 

2\. Say your OC made a playlist on Spotify. What bands would be on that playlist? Any specific genres? 

So I can’t think of any specific bands/musicians outside of Janelle Monae and Nicki Minaj but if I could name a genre it would be “queer disco throwback” with additional “electroclash” and “butts”

> 5\. What’s their favorite type of weather? Do they like to do anything specific on days when the weather is how they like it? 

50 to 70 degrees. It can be raining, it can be sunny, it can be windy, or day, or night. As long as it’s in that temperature range, Acacia is up to do _anything._

_(_ as soon as the temperature gets above 72 she complains bitterly. Hank and Willow tease her a bit for being such a weenie but then again Hank and Willow are like, stick insects and she carries a little extra around soooooo-)

> 7\. What kind of animals would they like as a pet? What names would they give their pets if they got any? If they already have pet’s what are their names? 

Acacia likes animals in the abstract; she’s always up for petting a good doggo in the park and cats at other people’s houses seem to seek her out. That being said, she’s a little too self-centered to be a pet person. Or rather, outside of her wife and children, she’s happy with herself and her own company; she doesn’t feel the need for a pet in her life. Reina keeps turtles which Acacia is cool with because the turtles are most definitely Reina’s, but she doesn’t quite get it.

That being said, if Acacia _did_  have pets, they’d have the most ridiculous ass fucking names like “Lady Sir Jones Fartbiscuits Buqkwyldd of Siqnastitown, Esquire, the Third” 

> 15\. How do they type? Do they use emojis? Do abbreviate and shorten words? 

Acacia texts like her mother, which means every other word is an emoji or gif, and her siblings get texts like “r u gtng din 2nite 4 evry1 kthxbai lu”

 

 


	254. Chapter 254

Ten Facts About Reina Castaneda

 

1\. If you pushed her on what her biggest, most secret fear is, it’d be that she’s not… exciting enough. Good enough. Weird enough for Acacia. I mean everyone in Gravity Falls knows about those wacky Pines and they’re all larger than life and she’s just… Reina Castaneda, born to a boring set of parents, moved to Gravity Falls halfway in school, is a fucking accountant for pete’s sake-

2\. She loves Acacia to distraction, but honestly- the eyeball trick thing? Getting a little old.

3\. Oddly enough, it’s Reina who is the Fun Parent (there’s always one) and Acacia who is the Strict Parent.

3.5. If you asked Acacia, it would be because she _knows_ their little hellions and the tricks they get up to and-

3.75. If you ask Reina, she would tell you that Acacia is reading way too much of her own misbegotten youth into their own children who are perfectly good thank you very much.

4\. The wildest thing Reina has ever done, in her eyes, is pose nude for Acacia to paint. Actually, more like _things_ since it basically happens once every two or three months. (Reina is 44 years old and still hasn’t quite told her mother that there are essentially nude pictures of her out there floating around in the art sphere)

5\. Acacia never got the point of pets, but Reina has throughout their relationship kept a series of pet box turtles. She loves how patient turtles are… also that her MIL knits little outfits for them which makes them even more fucking adorable.

6\. It’s Reina who does the handiwork in the trailer. Partially because Acacia doesn’t have the patience for anything that can’t get fixed in ten minutes or less. But mostly because for all of the genius and fine motor skills her wife exhibits with the pen, the brush, the pencil, completely disappears the second she tries to do anything 3D.

7\. Nito was named for Acacia’s uncles. His twin, her Josefa, she named for her Bisabuela. She didn’t remember much about Bisabuela, but she did remember old old hands holding hers, helping her shape numbers on the page for the first time.

8\. Reina is patient, calm, cool, collected. She doesn’t like to hurt people or even think about hurting people; it’s Acacia who has that fire, that temper, that power. It drives her wife to distraction sometimes, when she mentions self defense classes or boxing lessons and Reina shakes her head no. She knows Acacia doesn’t understand; they lead dangerous lives (no, _Acacia_ does) and Reina needs to be able to defend herself. But Reina knows, even if its dumb and foolhardy, that Acacia will come to rescue her. _Always._

9\. Reina likes Dipper well enough, but honestly? She doesn’t really have strong feelings towards him. He’s family, and he means a lot to her wife and her children but eh. He’s a little much for her.

9.5 Dipper thinks it’s because he’s a demon. Reina would point out that she finds that he tries like, way too hard and she’s thought that since she first met him.

10\. Reina is allergic to avocados. The day she told the Pines family, Mabel declared it a day of mourning and spent the rest of the week trying to make a guacamole fascimile for Reina.


	255. Chapter 255

Stan stood on the back porch and watched as the rackety old spaceship blipped out of existence. He couldn’t help but grin at the flash of light; Ford had the biggest bitch fit when he found out about Rick and him. Stan had mentioned the possibility that Ford was jealous and his twin hadn’t spoken to him for a week.

Worth it.

He sat down hard in the swinging porch chair Soos and Henry had installed last year. He wasn’t getting any younger and neither was Rick but… well. The sex was still amazing.

The door opened and Henry stepped out, a beer for Stan in one hand and a glass of milk for himself in the other. Silently, Henry handed Stan his beer, and sat down next to him in the chair.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. There was something obviously on Henry’s mind; before.. before the twins he wouldn’t have even noticed, let alone waited for another person to spill their guts and get all touchy-feely on him. But a lot of things had changed since the Transcendence, and Stan was one of them.

(Though he did wonder sometimes if one of the kids had bewitched the porch- there seemed to be a ridiculous amount of serious talks that happened out here.)

Finally, Henry looked up and into Stan’s eyes, something that he finally had been able to do only in the past year.

“Stan, can I be honest with you?”

“Sure, whatever kid,” Stan replied gruffly.

“So. Um. Mabel is pregnant-“

Stan laughed. “Hard to miss, she looks like she ate a watermelon.” Damnit, why couldn’t have he held his tongue?

Henry’s mouth closed, and he pursed his lips. Another minute passed before Henry spoke again.

“I don’t like Rick. I don’t like how he talks to you. I don’t like how he treats you. _And_ -“ Henry raised his voice as Stan opened his mouth to object. “- I have some concerns about him coming around when the kids are here.”

“Dipper and Mabel like him,” Stan pointed out, and if the tone of his voice was one he used to take when Ma got after him and Ford, well.

“Dipper likes him because Rick gives him tips and pointers, and then they go off to get in trouble together.”

Stan stiffened. “Hey now, I’ve taught Dipper a trick or seven.”

Henry nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. But after Dipper comes back when he’s out with Rick he’s… off.”

-a flash of red teeth, wild eyes, dangerous sparks of gold and blue energy and not even Mabel could calm him down at first-

“Mabel loves Rick.”

“Mabel loves everybody,” Henry said, a slightly sad smile on his face.

Stan looked into the forest, to a tree he couldn’t see but knew had a heart with “H+M” carved into it.

“You know… you know that we aren’t actually serious, right? That we’re just um… friends. With extra stuff. I scratch his itch, he scratches mine. I mean, I’m sure as shit not fucking anyone around here-“

“I know. I know Stan. And that’s fine. I just-“ Henry paused for a second before going on. “Mabel told me about Jimmy Snakes. I know you aren’t going to make that mistake again.”

“So what’s the big fucking deal Henry?” Stan snarled and he knew from the looks from Mabel and Dipper, from his own observations, what the deal was. But here and now, with Rick’s sweat and cum still clinging to his skin, the sweet ache of his muscles, the teeth marks left on his neck-

(the feeling of being wanted, of being Stan Pines the man and lover, not the uncle and father)

-he just didn’t care.                                                                                                                          

Henry didn’t flinch, didn’t blink.

“The big fucking deal Stan is that the way Rick treats you, hell, the way he talks about his family, it reminds me of my father a bit.”

Stan felt the blood drain from his face. He opened his mouth but no words came out. Henry went on.

“I don’t think Rick abuses you, not quite. But he comes pretty damn close. And he sure as hell abuses his family; maybe not with his fists, but certainly with his words.”

“So are you saying that makes me what? A bad person?” Stan knew that Henry was right. Stan knew Rick was bad for him, knew there was a reason he stopped rolling from town to town with Rick in the eighties. Hell, he always had a suspicion that Rick was the one that sold him out to Rico.

But like a goddamn idiot, every time Rick showed up, dropping pieces of his ship on the roof in the process of landing, bearing a bag of “sex pollen from this, this, fucked up alternate faceflower dimension, I got it from another Mabel hope you don’t mind-“

Maybe Henry saw the stricken look on his face, maybe it was something else entirely, but Henry said, “I’m not judging you Stan. If Mabel loves Rick, if you still see him, then there must be _something_ worthwhile within him.”

“Okay. So what’s your point kid?”

Henry finished off the last of his milk. Gompers jumped up on the porch, and looked at Henry expectantly. Henry, who chose a Solo-Serve cup for this reason, fed the empty cup to the goat. Gompers bleated, the sound muffled by the cup, and jumped off the porch to eat his prize.

“I’m not saying you need to stop seeing Rick. I just want to ask you that when the kids are born that-“ Henry took a deep breath. “I don’t want Rick around my children. Period.”

Stan wondered if Henry was aware that his fists were clenching in his lap, a vein popping out on his forehead.

“I swore, no, I _promised_ to myself that my children- that I won’t be the father that my own father was. And Rick reminds me too much of-“

“Your dad? You mentioned that.”

Henry shook his head. “No. My mother. But the point stands. I don’t want them to see how Rick treats people. So no more just letting him drop by- he needs to call ahead so we can take the kids out. You want a weekend? We’ll take the kids to see Mark and Anna. But I want there to be absolutely no contact between the kids and Rick, and I expect you to honor that.”

“Are you asking this?”

“No. I’m telling you this Stan.”

Silence again. Stan looked into Henry’s eyes. Those eyes reminded him of one of the bikers he used to run with when he was with Jimmy. Her name was Peggy, and she was somehow even shorter than Mabel and eighty pounds soaking wet if that. She could barely pick up her bike when she laid it flat and Stan ended up helping her most of the time. But no one, not even Jimmy, would fight her. Stan had lost count of how many times he had had to pull her off a half dead body, her hands soaked red, in bars across the country.

Her eyes had burned, a cold fire that was utterly merciless, fueled by an unwavering determination and a will stronger than steel.

Henry’s eyes were the exact same as Peggy’s.

One, two, four seconds, then Stan blew out a breath and clapped Henry on the back.

“Hell, I can put those kids over getting some dick any day of the week.”

Henry sagged in relief and he smiled. “Thank you Stan. This really means a lot to me. I just want the best for them, you know?”

Stan thought back to his own childhood, of late nights at the kitchen table, being sent back and forth by his dad and his dad’s friends to get them more beer, more cigs while Dad lost the rent money playing poker. Hard slaps or pinches if he and Ford were too slow getting things, the constant barked reminders that Stan was “the dumb one” and Ford “the weird one.”

Henry, so fucking determined to protect his children.                                      

Maybe (most likely) Rick would leave Stan for good over this.

But it would be worth it.


	256. Chapter 256

How was Mark and Anna's opinion over the twins as they grew older? I would still think that they would much rather believe that Dipper is dead rather than a demon. The biggest thing that I wonder is Mabel and the triplets, we don't see much interaction between the three and their grandparents...

> Dipper is far, far too real for them to ever pretend that he was dead. And, to be honest, they could never do that. They love him too much for that. Mark and Anna have a very difficult and strained relationship with Dipper, absolutely, but they can never fool themselves in thinking he’s dead. 
> 
> (also for the sheer amount of pictures with triplets being held in empty air and occasional ones where dipper shows up that Mabel sends them like- no denying Dipper is around.)
> 
> As for the triplets- things are definitely very awkward with Mark and Anna (especially after California). 
> 
> But.
> 
> But Mark and Anna love Mabel and Dipper, and of course love the triplets. There is no denying that. The triplets are their only grandchildren, and ofc the kids aren’t going to see Arnold and Rita. 
> 
> Once or twice a year, Mabel and Henry send the triplets to visit Mark and Anna for a week. It keeps Mark and Anna from having to come up to Gravity Falls too often and deal with…. awkwardness, and it lets the kids get to know their grandparents. And to be fair, all parties involved usually have a good time. Acacia loves going to Grandma and Zaydee’s house because there’s a sweet tree in the backyard she can hang out in (Mabel is very salty that Anna lets Acacia climb that tree when she never could but #grandparents). Hank by age 4 had befriended the entire neighborhood and loves seeing his California friends. Willow…. Willow can see the lingering colors in the house, in her grandparents’ auras… so it’s harder for her. But she does love cooking with Grandma.
> 
> There’s a distance, between Mark and Anna, and their grandchildren, and their children. It’s a distance that is only partially bridged. At the end of the day, if you pushed the triplets, their _true_  grandparent would be Stan. 
> 
> It’s not perfect. 
> 
> But its better than nothing.


	257. Chapter 257

Mabel woke up. She turned over to see that Henry, who usually stayed up a little longer than her at night, had finally joined her at some point and was now snoring quite noisily. She reached out a pointer finger, and played connect-the-dots with his freckles on his shoulder, his neck, his face. He slept through all of it; a welcome change from their first days of going out, when he would wake at the slightest touch or noise. She leaned over, to give him a kiss on the cheek before getting up.

She didn’t know what time it was, only that it was dark and the sun was still a few hours from blooming in the sky. As she walked through the house, her bare and calloused feet drifted over rough hewn floorboards long since worn smooth. Her bathrobe, borrowed from Henry, pooled in a train behind her. The Shack was old, but she had lived here now for the majority of her life, and she knew the house like the back of her hand. And important for here and now, she knew how to move to keep from making noise as she made her way through the house.

She looked upstairs for a second, to where the kids were sleeping. They had just made the transition from cribs to beds- should she check on them?

No.

This was her time.

Through the kitchen, out the screen door and the porch, through the yard… Instantly, a smile bloomed on her face. Above her the night sky was lit with thousands upon thousands of stars, the great arm of the Milky Way arching across the sky. The night was cool and humid, dew clinging to the grass while a thick fog lurked in the forest. Occasionally Mabel caught glow in the dark flashes of light from the forest, the eyes of animals and Otherwise peering out at her.

Mabel closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and wiggled her toes in the damp.

Then she shucked the bathrobe off, exposing her flesh to the night sky. And naked, she began to dance.

Right now, as long as she danced, she was free. 

Right now, under the cold light of ancient stars, she was no one’s mother. She was no one’s wife. She was no one’s friend, no one’s niece.

No one’s sister.

Not that she begrudged any of those roles mind you. She welcomed those bonds of love, bonds she formed and created with her words and her body.

But right here and now, she belonged only to herself. Right here and now, as she jumped twisted and turned, she reminded herself of who she was.

She was brave.

She was fearless.

She was bold, wild, dangerous.

She was Chaos. 

A shooting star streaked across the sky, and Mabel smiled. It was good to know the universe agreed with her.


	258. Chapter 258

**Prompt: We've seen Mabel meeting Henrys parents but not the other way around. When did Henry first meet Mark and Anne, and how did it go?**

“You found a nice young man honey.”

Mabel, joining her mother in the door way, nodded.

“I think so too.”

The subject under discussion was currently engrossed by the information scrolling on the TV, Dad having hooked up his computer to the box to take advantage of the bigger screen. Both men were locked in quiet discussion, completely ignoring the world around them.

“What are they working on again?” her Mom asked. 

Another person, another time, and Mabel would have simply summed it up as “boring nerd stuff.” But now, she screwed her face up trying to remember, remember, remember- oh!

“Something to do with book digitization and putting the older stuff in the library online!” Mabel said proudly, thinking about the long hours she and Henry had put in with the overhead scanner that Grunkle Stan had _probably_  not stolen at the Shack.

Mom smiled. “You really do like him, don’t you?”

“I think he’s it. For realsies this time, he’s it.”

Mom took a sip of coffee. They watched Henry and her Dad continue to scroll through the data on the screen.

“Have you told him yet? About your brother?”

“Of course I did! Dipper met Henry the same time I did! They got along just great and-”

“And he still stayed with you?”

As soon as it was out of her mother’s mouth, Mabel could tell that she regretted saying it, that she hadn’t meant to sound unkind.

But it was still there in the air, lingering.

Mabel shook as a chill danced up her spine, the kitchen of her childhood suddenly losing it’s warmth.

“Yes. He did.” 


	259. Chapter 259

She looked up.

She looked down.

She looked up and down a few times.

She did the math in her head, calculated force, wind speed, trajectories, how many cookies she could eat in one sitting. 

Now, to wait for just. The. Right-

**GO**

—-

Henry had only stepped ten feet in the house from getting the mail, when a banshee wail erupted from behind him. 

Before he even had time to react, he heard behind him the thump of feet on the old, creaky floorboards, and then the sudden weight of his wife clinging onto his back. He staggered, trying to adjust even as Mabel wrapped her arms and legs around his neck and torso.

“Hey honey,” he managed weakly.

“I HAVE SUMMITED MOUNT HENRY.”

“Yes, yes you have.”

“I DEMAND TRIBUTE IN KISSES.”

“Um, I can’t reach you when you’re on my back.”

Quick as a flash, she had twirled around until she was in his arms, legs still firmly wrapped around him, and her face super close to his.

“How about now?”

She had scared the living poop out of him but.

Well.

He could never say no to that face, especially when it was asking for kisses


	260. Chapter 260

**For the ask about the triplets how are their relationship with Henry for each of the triplets?**

> Acacia

It was unfair of her, when she was little, to think of Dad as the ‘mean one.’ But after her latest hilarious escapade or well deserved dishing out of revenge blew up in her face when she was a kid, it was pretty easy to sweet talk Grunkle Stan or Uncle Dipper to either forget about it or let her off easy. Even Mom, Acacia could charm a good laugh out of or get a pointer.

Dad on the other hand? He didn’t shout, and he certainly never, _ever_  hit, let alone spanked her.

He would just be quietly disappointed, which was infinitely worse.

Also, he never took time off her punishment whenever she was grounded, which was hella lame.

> Hank

It wasn’t that he didn’t love his sisters, because well… he did. 

Obviously.

It was just between Acacia’s wild and crazy pranks and singing and climbing on the roof but not the part they were allowed on, and Willow’s asthma and… and other stuff, well.

It didn’t seem like there was much time left over for him.

But then he’d be at breakfast, and suddenly a big floppy hat would get plopped on his head, and he’d look up to see Dad wearing the same hat-

Some of his most treasured memories of childhood were of the two of them, out on the lake fishing.

Just him and Dad.

> Willow

Mom, Dad, Uncle Dipper.

Acacia, Hank, Willow.

That’s how they all usually got paired. And to be fair, it made sense. But family didn’t work in such strict binaries, not really.

The bier blazed in front of them, and Willow remembered crosswords done side by side in the mornings, cups of coffee next to them as in the background children screamed at each other. 

Learning how to fix cars, starting with Dad’s truck and moving on to Stan’s old clunker, watching documentaries at 2am since her and Dad were the only ones who were interested in them, making pies and breakfasts together for everyone.

The blessed quiet, that sometimes only Dad understood the need for, that he now was resting in. 


	261. Chapter 261

> [@marypsue](https://tmblr.co/mI2iIJXiCnAr2SMw0PTV-lQ): “ford fiesta tantrum”

Ford’s eyes closed reflexively as Stan took another hairpin turn at 75 miles an hour. He recited the first 30 prime numbers in his head, then opened his eyes- just in time to see Stan swerve out of the way of a logging truck.

In the wrong lane.

Ford did _not_ survive a year at sea, fighting the worse chthonian monsters of the briny depths, to die in a dumb car accident.

It’d be one thing if they were in Stan’s old clunker, three tons of the finest and rustiest steel that Detroit had to offer. However, the El Diablo was in the shop after an…. Incident, involving Soos, the local gnome troop, and three gallons of maple syrup. Melody had been kind enough to lend them her Fiesta while they were in town for the summer to use but-

“STANLEY FOR THE LOVE OF FUCK WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING!”

“Yeah, yeah Sixer, I’m watching,” Stan said, oblivious to the freshly dead deer in the middle of the lane he had been within two seconds of running over.

Ford appreciated Melody’s thoughtfulness, especially since every time they rode in the twin’s car, he came out covered in glitter. But the fact remained that his brother was driving what was essentially a go-kart that was almost entirely plastic, and not the most sturdy and-

“Stan.”

“Mmmm?”

“Stan you’re doing 95.”

“So?”

Ford peered at a sign that went whizzing by way too fast.

“The speed limit through here is 40.”

Stan shrugged, and Ford saw the speedometer go up another click or two. “I like to think of them as more…. Suggestions! Yeah, suggestions.”

They just sped past a police station, because of _course_.

“Stan, this isn’t our car we’re using. I’m sure Melody won’t appreciate you destroying her vehicle.”

Stan waved him off-

“HANDS ON THE WHEEL HANDS ON THE WHEEL!”

-and scoffed. “ _Relax_ Ford, we’re almost there. Thanks to _my_ excellent driving I may add!”

Were those blue and red flashing lights in the rearview?

“I really think you should let me drive Stan.”

His twin shook his head. “No can do poindexter; I’ve got thirty years’ experience on you after all.”

“I think you mean ‘thirty years somehow not dying.’”

They slowed to a stop at a red light that Stan thankfully decided to actually obey.

Ford unbuckled his seat belt. Stan wasn’t wearing his, as usual, which would make this easy.

“What are you doing Ford?”

“Well, since you’ve obviously taken leave of your senses twenty miles and two aerial maneuverers back, I’m taking control of the car. You are completely unfit to drive, Stanley!”

Stan muttered under his breath.

“What did you say?”

“Well, at least I wasn’t the one that scratched the Stan-O-War when we docked last month.”

Ford saw red.

—

The policeman could hear the screaming from three blocks away, screaming which continued _in his car_ , even as he hauled both old men to county jail.


	262. Chapter 262

**lucy ann, experiment**

The day after [she was left exposed on the banks of the Thamesis to die,](http://transcendence-au.tumblr.com/post/105187281533/ficlet) she ventured out again to greet the sun.

The sun rose, and once again she remained unburnt. 

She undressed completely, and stretched herself out on the ground, exposing every inch of skin to the sun.

Still fine, though now she was nice and toasty feeling from head to toe. But not in the burning-to-death-soon way, just the feeling from taking a dip in warm water or sleeping under four or five furs. 

The same thing happened the third day. 

And the fifth.

By day twelve, what had been experiments, she safely felt she could now maybe, just maybe, count as the next stage in her very long existence.


	263. Chapter 263

> [theitalianscribe](http://theitalianscribe.tumblr.com/) said:Prompt. Character: Gompers. Word: Home 

Gompers found a tin that Sad Smell One Eye threw out into the yard and began to chomp on it. He was worried about Sad Smell One Eye. For a few brief months, there had been kids (even if they were weird furless kids with soft hooves and messed up eyes) running around, and Sad Smell One Eye had turned into Happy Smell One Eye.

Gompers had approved of the change. He tolerated Sad Smell One Eye, but it was nice to see him happy, if only because he stunk better. 

But then there had been the Wrong Bad that had ripped through his home, and while it _was_  fun being big big and wreaking havoc and terror on all he surveyed, at the end of it what had been two kids had suddenly become one-

Gompers finished the tin and started to sniff around the yard for another one. There were a lot more tins out here than there used to be.

Lots of tins, sad smells, weird broken noises coming from One Eye; everything had gone back to normal, like from before the kids had come.

Gompers didn’t like that.

He’d have to have a word with what his boy kid had become to fix this. He’d miss the tins, but some things were worth the sacrifice. 


	264. Chapter 264

**Prompt: Dipper and Henry having a road trip while listening to "500 miles" over and over again ;)**

The seat next to him was empty, though the seatbelt was buckled in, on Henry’s insistence.

_“When I wake up, I know who I want to be-”_

Henry released his foot off the gas to ease forward a half foot, just as quickly putting his foot on the brake again.

“-I want to be the man who wakes up next to you.”

It didn’t seem fair that he would be stuck in a traffic jam trying to leave Bend, but the town _had_  been growing, once Henry thought about it.

_“And I would walk five thousand miles-”_

His phone buzzed again, for the thousandth time. Henry blew a breath out of his mouth. He loved Mabel, and he appreciated her concern, but this was the nth time he had gotten a “are you close now” text from her.

_“-just to be the man who would walk five thousand miles to your door.”_

Speaking of repetition.

“Dipper?”

Silence.

“Is there any reason why you’ve had this song playing on repeat for the last hour?”

More silence.

“Because, I have to tell you, it’s turned what was a minor annoyance into the beginning of a migraine and I don’t exactly appreciate it.”

_“Na na na na! na na na na!”_

“Would you consider turning it off please-?”

_“Na na na na na na na na n-”_

The radio suddenly fizzled out, and Henry drew back his fist, now covered in cuts and scrapes. Normally he wouldn’t consider such a drastic course of action, but considering the guilty silence that was emanating from the passenger seat, he was pretty sure he could get Dipper to fix the radio for free.

The blessed silence was absolutely worth it.


	265. Chapter 265

**wilightskylene said:Sass, Dipper**

It was ridiculous. 

He was a demon. Day by day, he could feel power continue to flow into him, pooling into an endless reserve that he could tap into. He had more titles than he knew what to do with already, and it had only been two years since the Transcendence. He had gone to the Moon, to the Mariana Trench, and touched the Sun (and paid dearly for that last one but not the point here).

He should not be scared of _Grunkle Stan_.

And yet-

Stan looked at him. “ _What_  did you just say Dipper?”

Dipper, who maybe had said something along the lines of “You got more nose hairs than years you have left,” looked down, shuffled his feet, and muttered, “Nothing, Grunkle Stan.”

Stan, dressed only in his gross, sweat stained undershirt and boxers, put the slipper that had been in his hand back down on the ground, and re-grabbed his magazine. 

“That’s what I thought.”


	266. Chapter 266

**petrichor, henry**

He didn’t used to notice the smell of rain. 

Or rather, of course he did, but it was just that. A pleasant smell, like that of a good pot roast, or old books, or that weird ozone scent that came about whenever Dipper popped on to the material plane. 

But now, he couldn’t _not_  notice. 

Not when every time it rained the smell of rain mingled in his nose with the deep heady scent of apple blossoms, flowers only he could see blooming with the onset of moisture. 

Not when his body tingled from top to bottom with the feeling of a hundred different hands and feet coming to life in the air around his head, fingers and toes twitching as the sky grew grey and dark. 

And most of all, not when the smell of rain usually brought his wife, his children into the room, bearing blankets and popcorn and pillows and hot chocolate, to cuddle around him as the rain beat down on the tin roof of the Shack.


	267. Chapter 267

“OHMYGOSH DIPPER NOOOOOOO!”

Mabel ran through the house, stomping and giggling with a carrot in one hand and an onion in the other.

Dipper chased after her, hands full of blue fire and buttwings flapping furiously away.

“Mabel you’re not funny! Thotpth!” he lisped, still not used to the darn fangs in his mouth.

She turned a sharp corner and ran into the kitchen.

“Whatever, you’d make a _great_ food processor Dipdop!”

“M̸̲̗a̛̱̻͖̺b͖͈̫̮̹͉ͅel͇̥̙!̤”

“Your mouth is maaaaaaaaaaaaagiiiiiiiiiiiiiic!” she yelled as she pulled the back door open and ran out into the yard. He followed after her only to be tackled by his twin.

Root vegetables were thrust in front of his face.

“ _Make magic happen with your mouth!”_ Mabel crooned as she got up off of her brother, lost in fantasies of her brother and his Made For TV serrated teeth.

She was wide open, laying under the tree with the tire swing in their back yard.

Dipper pounced, hands full of blue fire, and began to tickle Mabel, who screamed with laughter from the onslaught.

“Dipper noooo stoooop!” Mabel cried, batting at his face and laughing so hard that tears came to her face. He continued his assault, tickling Mabel on the ribs, even as she kicked at his shins and tried her best to pull on his wings, giving it as good as she got. He hadn’t felt this happy in a few d-

“Dipper get away from her _right now_ _or else.”_

The twins froze.

There was Mom, with a small plastic container of water that glowed to Dipper’s eyes and he knew without anyone saying that his mom had it blessed by the priest at the Catholic church by their house last week. He didn’t know how she could see him though since-

Oh. The fire. On Mabel.

Waves of worry and fear and anxiety rolled off her so thick that Dipper felt like he would choke, like he would drown under the emotion coming from his parents.

Speaking of which, they both passed through him as they rushed over to Mabel, even though she was fine, even though neither of them seemed to notice the tears coming to her eyes as they asked if she was okay, hesitantly let her know that if Dipper was _hurting_ her she didn’t need to stand up for him, really honey, your health is more important, _trust_ us-

Dipper faded away from the yard.

Mabel needed him, but then and there he would only do more damage than actual help.

(He came back after their Mom had gently let Mabel know that if Dipper was hurting her, she didn’t _have_ to stand up for him, and things had gone downhill from there.)


	268. Chapter 268

Dipper had quickly found that even now he could sleep.

But it was different now. He just laid back and suddenly there was a great _nothing_ that swallowed him whole.

(Later, much later, Dipper loved to sleep, would sleep for hours or days or years because it was as close to death as he could come.)

He could still be woken up by Mabel coming in and jumping on his bed and all over him, or loud noises, or anything else that woke him up before the Transcendence.

Like pain.

More specifically, stabbing, piercing pains in the roof of his mouth.

He shuddered awake in his bed (his parents had tried to take it out of the room, gently telling Mabel that he didn’t need it anymore. It had taken ten minutes of tears from Mabel to get them to change their minds) and looked over to see if he had woken Mabel only to see that she was not there.

Oh yeah, she was spending the night at her friend Sriyani’s house, the only person who still-

It felt like his head was going to rip apart from the inside out, starting from his mouth, and when he opened his mouth to scream in pain (not that anyone would hear), some blood shot out instead.

He curled into a little ball, overwhelmed with the sensations rippling through his body. It was worse than the most terrible sinus pressure he had ever felt before, like the warm feverish ache he remembered from the last cavity he had amplified beyond measure and focused on the roof of his mouth.

There was a poke, a feeling of ‘pop’ in his mouth, and a second blessedly free of pain, before a second row of razor sharp fangs ripped their way into his mouth, behind his original set of teeth.

Blood poured from his mouth, gold and red mixing into one another, pooling onto the floor and eating into the carpet like acid.

This time he did scream, and the birds and bats all around the house dropped dead from the sky.


	269. Chapter 269

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: the Mabel born during the Transcendence (who is is Mabel's mindscape?) And Dippy Fresh hanging out in Mabel's mindscape. Madness ensues.

It was unfair of her perhaps. Or unkind. Or both. 

And while Mabel begrudged Dipper nothing, would gladly share almost anything of herself with him, she still needed some privacy and space. And since her mind was not the sacrosanct place it used to be, she occasionally had to play dirty.

“What’s his wiggity wiggity whackalack deal?”

Mabel smiled, and took another sip of her tea as her real brother, her actual brother, fled like a big chicken from the sight of the guest at her tea table.

“I have no idea, my freshest of all my brothers. More peppermint tea?”

Dippy Fresh did a complicated hand sign which produced some unreal colors and five dimensional shapes which Mabel took to mean yes.


	270. Chapter 270

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> TAU prompt. Stan and Dipper in one of his "bad moments".

The idea of crawling into his father’s lap ever, let alone at the age of 16, was completely out of Stan’s frame of reference. Filbrick Pines didn’t raise no sissy boys after all.

A younger, far younger Stan would have not seen a problem with that. A younger, far younger Stan hadn’t seen and done and felt what Stan now had done.

Without any question or hesitation, Stan gathered a sobbing Dipper onto his lap. Thankfully the kid was short, and his wings had curled tightly to his back.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry Sta̤ṋ̖̗̫,̟̬̱͍̙͔̘ ̱̼̮͖̮I͉̣͔’͍͇̭̹̜ͅm̤̜̘ ̦s͙̝̳̦̻o̥ ̼͓̯̗͖͕̝s̗̜̗͔ͅò̹̟̗̤̬̼ ̝̼̻s͔̻̹̳͖͉o͇̭̝͠r͈͞r̯̦̳͚y̧̗̻͙͕̘-̲”͕̯͓͍͎̹͎

Stan patted Dipper’s back awkwardly.

“Hey kid, it’s okay. I uh, don’t mind.”

Dipper looked up at him, snot running down his face to the point it dripped off his chin, cheeks covered in golden track marks.

“No Stan. It’s not okay.”

Stan paused. Mabel, in her upset, had run off into the woods, and Stan knew from past experience that if she didn’t want to be found, he wouldn’t see her until she was ready no matter how hard Stan could look. 

There was blood, red and gold on the floor, splattered on the walls of the kitchen, covering the fridge and the stove. Stan’s ribs ached from where Dipper caught him one with inhuman strength when he tried to grab Dipper off of Wad-

Stan’s eyes lingering in the kitchen fell upon a solitary hoof, some muscle and bone still attached to it but not much. It had flown in the feeding frenzy and landed in the bowl of pancake batter left over from breakfast this morning.

Stan sighed.

He didn’t need this. But then again, neither did Mabel. And Dipper hadn’t asked to be… to be like this.

“It’s not okay. But it’s going to have to be Dipper. We’ll… we’ll figure it out.”


	271. Chapter 271

It was an afternoon when the kids were playing quietly for once, engrossed in the tub of Legos that Soos had found in his Abuelita’s attic and had brought over for the triplets (and Ford, when he visited) to enjoy. They were so wrapped up in building that they didn’t even noticed their uncle lean over to their mom on the couch and ask “Do you ever wonder what it would have been like, being a triplet instead of a twin?”

Mabel winced as Dipper sprayed bits of Cheeto all over her face. “Do you ever wonder if Mom actually taught you manners or not?” Before Dipper could have a chance to retort, Mabel went on. “Besides, can’t you see that yourself with your spoopy demon eyes?”

“I mean I _could_ but I really want to hear what you think.”

Mabel punched Dipper in the arm. “You big sap,” she muttered, but she was beaming as she said so.

She thought about it for a moment. She watched as Willow helped sort the Legos into colors before handing them to Acacia, who was obviously choosing which ones to give to Hank in order to make a design in the tower he was building.  

Finally, Mabel said. “I don’t think we’d be who we are.”

“Well, _yeah_ , we’d have a triplet-“

She shook her head. “No, that’s not what I meant Dipper, like no duh. But like, if we had a sister or a brother or someone in between, we’d bounce off them and each other in a different way.”

Dipper was about to shove a literal half bag of Cheetos into his mouth while he spoke, saw the look on his twin’s face, and asked “How so?” before stuffing his face again.  

“I mean, just look at the kids.”

With the mention of them, they looked up as one at their mom and uncle, before dismissing the adults as far, far less important than the task of building THE BIGGEST LEGO TOWER EVER.

Mabel put down the lazer gun cozy she was knitting for Candy, the better to gesture with her hands. “I mean like, the kids are like, one three person unit, yeah? But they’re an odd number too. So sometimes Acacia and Willow want to do girl stuff and kick Hank out of the room- that’s usually when he asks you for extra violin lessons, have you noticed that?” 

Dipper _had_ noticed the extra lesson requests, and just put it down to Hank being surprisingly diligent for a seven year old, as opposed to feeling bored and left out.

“Or like, there’s stuff that Hank and Willow like to do that Acacia doesn’t have the patience for and she either runs off to do her own thing or she gets upset and picks fights with them so they’ll pay attention to her. And then there’s all the times that Acacia and Hank go do active things and Willow can’t keep up and so she stays behind.”

Mabel deftly plucked the bag of Cheetos from Dipper’s clawed hands, claiming the remnants for her own. “So they are three people, and then they’re a pair and one extra but there’s so many pairs between them and then also like, I get the feeling sometimes they all choose to be on their own to get a break from each other and just. There’s more than one of them like you and me Dipper, but they aren’t us and we aren’t them. They’re living a different life than we did their age.”

She saw his mouth open and snapped “ _you know what I meant_ ” before Dipper had a chance to get sassy.

By now the triplets had their heads together, obviously planning what the next stage of their tower would be, since it was starting to get a little wobbly.

Mabel reached over, took Dipper’s gloved hand in her own, laughing a bit at the cheeto dust that covered the silk. “So yeah, I do wonder sometimes. But at the end of the day, I’m honestly kind of glad I didn’t have to share you.”

Dipper watched as the triplets returned to their building, this time with Willow holding up the tower at its base while Acacia and Hank added more on top. He had a feeling in a minute or two they’d try to stand on each other’s shoulders to keep going and one of them (Mabel) was going to have to be the responsible adult and put a stop to it.

“I’m glad I didn’t have to share you too.”


	272. Chapter 272

“So.”

Pacifica plonked the pancakes in front of the Pines twins- she could only see one of them but she knew damn well Dipper was there next to Mabel.

“You’re back in town,” she went on, digging through the pockets of her apron for sugar, salt, syrup, and despite Mabel’s really gross propensity to share silverware with everyone, TWO sets of flatware thank you very much.

Pacifica wasn’t entirely surprised to see them back, not really. She had been in touch with them the three years they were back in California, had sleepovers with Mabel at Mr and Mrs Ramirez’s hovel when they were visiting.

Had heard about the troubles they were having.

Mabel looked next to her, at the blank air on her left side in the booth, before smiling weakly and looking back at Pacifica.

“Well. You know. Stuff happens. Happened.”

Though Pacifica couldn’t see Dipper, she did hear a faint “shit happens” in chorus with Mabel.

The paychecks her parents confiscated every month said Lazy Susan was paying her six dollars an hour, not reflecting the additional nine that Lazy Susan kept in an envelope along with all of her tips under the till for safekeeping, until Pacifica was ready. The empty apartment Mayor Cutebiker had saved from condemnation, that had been fixed up by his husband (and Habitat For Humanity volunteer Pacifica Northwest) that was waiting patiently for a person to live in it.

The emancipation papers that were this close to being finalized, the bell she threw out of the window last night during one argument, and the only food she was getting these days was during work-

Pacifica could only nod.

“Shit happens,” she agreed.


	273. Chapter 273

Stan sighed.

“Get that shit eating grin off your face kid,” he snarled at Dipper. In response, Dipper only grinned even larger, skin ripping as the corners of his lips moved abnormally high, double rows of fangs exposed to the air-

“And knock that crap off; save it for the schmucks.”

While he was still smiling, Dipper’s face transitioned back from “demonic” to the usual “vaguely off” which had become his default. “Sorry Grunkle Stan. It’s just…. I’ve been offering to do something like this for you for years-”

Stan waved a hand at Dipper. “I know, I know.”

The old broken bones healed wrong, the aches and pains in his legs from muscles that had been torn and slashed, the persistent balance problem due to his left ear, the weird smell that Mabel insisted came from his feet but Stan himself wasn’t quite convinced about… all of these maladies Dipper had offered to take care of for years.

And always, Stan declined.

Part of it was the price; however minor it was, especially compared to all the other cons Dipper was running, it still scar-…. rubbed Stan the wrong way. He hadn’t survived this long without being careful and wary. Even if Dipper WAS his nephew, he was still a fucking demon now, and Sheila Pines hadn’t raised any fools.

Part of it was the idea of his body getting changed, even only slightly…. it didn’t sit well with him. Every ache and pain and wound was hard earned goddamnit. Every scar was a reminder that Stan had won, that he was still standing while most others he used to run with were long in the ground. They were reminders not to get caught, not to be stupid, not to be so weak-

(-no, not that last one, not anymore, thanks to his kids)

His body… it was his, for better or worst damnit.

Stan sighed. Unfortunately, now that Mabel was pregnant, she was even more bossy and insistent than she usually was and damn that girl, she had his number good.

Namely, until he got his cataracts fixed, there would be no way she would let her children be in the car with him behind the wheel.

A week in the darkness, that was the deal. It was going to suck massive donkey dongers, but Dipper promised Stan “fighter pilot vision,” whatever that meant, and more important, Mabel promised Stan that he could be the one to drive the babies home from the hospital.

And he’ll. It’d be nice to save some money from the constant car repairs that came with driving through, well, everything.

“Okay kid. Let er rip.”


	274. Chapter 274

Bill never ate human flesh.

Well, okay, a few times because when one is that old, also an isosceles monster, well. Things happen. But it wasn’t something Bill sought.

(There were a million billion unforeseen circumstances from turning a 12 year old human into a demon. And one of them was the taint of meat, a craving or hunger that would rear its head time and time again)


	275. Chapter 275

Acacia wanted to be like Aunt Wendy when she grew up, because Aunt Wendy was the coolest person Acacia knew.

(Acacia told Uncle Dipper that when she was six, and she didn’t understand why he huffed off and poofed away for an hour, or why Mom was laughing so hard.)

Aunt Wendy was everything Acacia wanted to be. She hunted monsters, she won every burping contest they had, she knew how to throw an axe into a tree fifty feet away. Aunt Wendy took them for rides on the back of her motorcycle, Aunt Wendy knew how to play the drums, and Aunt Wendy showed Acacia once how to break someone’s nose on the first try. Aunt Wendy wouldn’t let Mom play with her hair (even though Acacia could see Mommy’s hands twitching sometimes when Aunt Wendy took off her hat) but she’d let Acacia messily braid her hair. Aunt Wendy wasn’t one for hugging, but she always let Acacia climb in her lap to fall asleep.

When Acacia was little, she was so sure that she was going to grow up to be like Aunt Wendy and it was going to be _amazing_.

But then she started being different than Aunt Wendy, no matter how hard she tried to be the same.  She tried wearing jeans and flannels like Aunt Wendy, but no matter how much she tried to make herself like them, Acacia just liked dressing up nice and fancy, like Grunkle Stan. She was all chunky, and yes, she knew from all the times Mom told her, that she was beautiful the way she was… but now she looked even less like Aunt Wendy. Aunt Wendy liked boys, and Acacia was pretty sure she didn’t like boys… not like that anyway. Aunt Wendy liked grapes and Acacia was allergic to them.

She tried, she tried so hard to hide it from Aunt Wendy, she didn’t want to disappoint the one person she looked up more to than even Mommy or Daddy.

But there was one day where Acacia was playing in the dirt with Gompers, scooping up handfuls of earth and dutifully scrubbing it into his fur while he chewed on an empty beer can of Grunkle Stan’s that she brought out for him, and suddenly Aunt Wendy’s boots were next to Acacia.

Acacia looked up.

“Hey squirt. Let’s talk.”

(seven year old Acacia marveled for years afterwards that Aunt Wendy somehow _knew_ what was wrong. Adult Acacia, especially once her own children were born, realized that her child-self was amazingly unsubtle)

“Am I in trouble?” Acacia asked as she followed Aunt Wendy to the porch, not an unreasonable thing to ask as there were at least four different rules Acacia had broken that morning.

“Remember what I said about trouble?”

Acacia nodded. “Don’t get caught.”

Aunt Wendy smiled, zipping her mouth shut and then throwing away the key. Acacia did the same, climbing onto Aunt Wendy’s lap as the woman settled into the musty old brown couch on the porch.

“Hey little dude. So, you know I’m not good at talking about feelings, and, stuff.”

Acacia nodded. Aunt Wendy was like Grunkle Stan in that way.

“But I just wanted to let you know, that I like you for _you_.”

Acacia giggled. “Thanks Aunt Wendy.”

“Don’t just ‘thanks Aunt Wendy’ me. I really mean it squirt.” The smile left Acacia’s face. Aunt Wendy was getting all weirdly serious now.

“You don’t have to try and impress me. You don’t have to try and be me. You are an Acacia. You’re like, the only Acacia I know. Literally and figuratively.” That last line went over Acacia’s head, and Aunt Wendy must have quickly realized it, because she went on. “It’s been really bumming me out seeing you beat yourself up-“

“I don’t do that! That would hurt!”

“That’s not what I mea- let’s try again.” Aunt Wendy ran her fingers through Acacia’s hair, that Mommy spent two hours straightening with a curling iron this morning, Acacia’s treat for doing all her chores without being told that week.

“When I was only a little older than you, my mom died. And all I had left of her were my memories and my pictures of her. And your Uncle Dan wouldn’t talk about her anymore so…”

Aunt Wendy’s arms tightened a little more around Acacia as she went on. “Mom had short hair so I cut mine off. Mom always made the chore list for my brothers for the week so I started doing that because Dad wasn’t. The Air Force was Mom’s life, so I started talking about joining ROTC in high school, even though I punched the recruiter for looking at girl’s butts in the parking lot. For a year I tried my hardest to be April Corduroy instead of Wendy Corduroy. And you know what?”

“What?”

“I was miserable. If I wasn’t mad at myself for not being like my mom, I was a big old Debbie Downer because I wasn’t happy being someone else. Finally your Uncle Dan sat me down like I’m sitting you down and you know what he told me?”

Acacia shook her head. She felt like crying. She didn’t know why she felt like crying.

“There’s only one Wendy Blerble Corduroy. And I’ll tell you that there’s only one Acacia Ruth Pines.  I love you for who you are Caci. I’m… I’m flattered but you don’t need to change who you are or make yourself different. You’re good the way you are.”

Acacia… Acacia thought she knew what Aunt Wendy meant, what Aunt Wendy was trying to say.

But because Acacia had a hard time with feelings like Aunt Wendy too, all she said was, “Okay. I can’t eat grapes anyway.”

She was pretty sure Aunt Wendy would understand.


	276. Chapter 276

The planets did not align the day Mason and Mabel Pines were born.

There were no eclipses, be they lunar or solar. The rivers didn’t run red like blood. Seers (such as they were before the Transcendence) didn’t wake screaming in horror or tearing their hair out or even noting much of anything at all. The suburban deer and coyotes in Piedmont didn’t run all the way to the sea to drown themselves, the milk in the stores didn’t curdle, and there were no auspicious stars rising in the horizon.

No, these were just two children, born at the same time- something which would have caused comment even a hundred years earlier but now was a relatively staid event.

Boring, normal babies.

Which goes to show that sometimes even Prophecy can really screw the pooch.


	277. Chapter 277

They were all grown now, so there was no reason, no reason at all for Dipper to check up on them like this. But well. Old habits died so very hard and they were his niblings-

(his His _HIS)_

-so once a week Dipper took a stroll through their mindscapes, checking in as his stars one two three entered his realm throughout the night. Every mindscape was different and Dipper’s kids were no exception. So why was it that after all these years he found their minds so… so….

Unsettling.

(he should be the only unsettling thing around, honestly)

Hank popped up on his radar first, exhausted as he was between the demands of the Crew and four kids under the age of five. As Dipper dived in, he was vividly reminded as always how much Hank’s mind was like the very first mindscape he broached decades ago. And hell, for the first two decades of Hank’s life, his mind was even shaped like the Shack, just like Stan. Then Hank moved to Portland and Hank’s mindscape _blossomed._

Hank’s mind wasn’t just a generic Portland, a few streets of random buildings here and there. No. Hank’s mind was the entirety of Portland, and it’s surrounding suburbs, and beyond that, a glowing warm light in the distance that Dipper could never reach, was the Shack like a beacon in the storm.  And it wasn’t just that Hank had an entire city in his mind that was picture perfect down to the weeds growing in the cracks of the sidewalks and the scent of beer and coffee and salt in the air.

Every building, every enclosed space, contained a specific memory or a feeling. Completely compartmentalized and perfectly controlled. Dipper could open doors and windows all he wanted, but the only things he would see would be generic memories of Hank practicing the violin or doing homework or driving the massive van he got for the Crew around the city. Hank’s soul would be bared to no one without Hank’s say so, and Dipper wandered in the empty streets of Hank’s mind knowing he only saw what Hank wanted him to see.

Dipper could open the doors and see what Hank had hidden away. It was just that the force Dipper would have to use to do that would kill Hank.

A ping in his head and a tugging at his belly button and Dipper let himself tesser away into Willow’s mind, guessing that even back on the material plane she was where he left her, on the couch next to Mabel and with That Damned Cat in her lap.

Willow’s mindscape was peaceful. He was sitting on a soft crocheted grey blanket. All around him were waves upon waves of waving grass, each strand a different shade of grey. Dark grey clouds chased each other across a light grey sky. The gentle breeze smelt like lavender and rosemary, while all around him grey butterflies with wingspans larger than his face flapped lazily, letting the wind take them where it would. In the distance he could see where grey grass tapered off into grey sand, and at the edge of the sand, the ocean lapping lightly at the edges. The surface of the ocean was calm and smooth.

The surface of the ocean was calm and smooth and still waters ran deep, so very deep. Dipper knew that any intruders in here would be lured to the edge of the water (and reminded himself to stay firmly seated.) Would perhaps dip a foot into the water, without even truly knowing why, distracted by whatever dark design brought them into Willow’s mind in the first place. One step, two steps, three-

And Willow would strike, dragging them down and swallowing them whole. It had only taken one time with a rotten flower for Willow to learn that trick. One time was all she needed. And though he could escape from that ocean, even Dipper would be forced to leave something of himself behind.

A violent stab in the back of his head; Acacia must have been up late painting tonight. He let himself tesser into Acacia’s mind and then had to rub his eyes and keep them half open until they got used to the bright swirling pop-art array of colors that made up Acacia’s mind. And that was all her mindscape was, was color. He tried to explain it to Mabel once; the best he could come up with was those old video clips from the sixties and seventies of bright oil paint swirling around on a water surface, but technicolor and sans the weird old music.  

And unlike her sibling’s minds, the constantly shifting shades of color was all that there was in Acacia’s mind, hues and shades forever swirling and twisting and fading into one another. There was no up, no down, no discernable direction at all, not even when Dipper tried to make there be. Deeper eddies and spots of color represented her memories and thoughts and emotions, that Dipper could tell, though he had never gotten the hang of looking in on them. It was only color in Acacia’s mindscape.

And the screaming.

It was a constant howl of joy, a cry of rage, and most of all, a constant piercing never ending scream clawing at the doors trying to get out.  It made sense now, all the crazy stunts that she pulled since the day she had started walking and talking, the paintings she created, her driving (just… her driving). They were all tiny controlled slips, letting only a tiny bit of the scream out. But Dipper worried- was it enough for Acacia? Would it ever be enough?

He left Acacia’s mind with a sigh of relief. As always, his kids were just fine. And as always, he wondered if he did this to them, if he made them this way.

(A woman in red, unseen, tutted at the sulking demon. Silly boy. Too up his own ass to see that Pineses always had a touch of Something Else on them.)


	278. Chapter 278

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How would the triplets react if one of them betrayed the others? Not that it would ever happen (most likely).

> Willow

The charred thing in the ravine was barely discernible as once being a car.

And the only evidence that people had perished in said car was the chance finding of a tooth amidst the ashes. 

> Acacia

It took an entire Portland SWAT team to eventually take her down, and only after she hamstrung one of them and garroted another. She was screaming, insensible, coated from head to toe and dripping with blood that wasn’t hers. 

(she had rent them apart with her bare hands)

> Hank

He had friends, yes, but this was personal. And some things were best taken care of by oneself. It took a month, two months, time before all of his pieces were in place. But haste makes waste after all.

It ended with three people walking into a small CCC cabin out in the woods of Roadkill County but only one person walking out. 


	279. Chapter 279

> Henry's favorite memory of hanging out with Dipper?

Blowing up hotdogs in the microwave. It’s so… dumb. And happy. And carefree. And completely unlike what Henry ever thought his life would be like.

> Do the triplets have any specific fears or phobias?

Acacia is intensely claustrophobic- if she can’t at least sit up, she is going to freak the fuck out.

(Acacia has punched her way Kill Bill style out of two or three wooden boxes with this fear).

Willow… Willow fears the day her Sight grows too strong for her to leave the Shack, to even see people (as opposed to Seeing them) any more. The thought of losing her independence… it would destroy her.

Hank is scared of geese…. oh and the corrupting potential of power and what if he goes bad and Uncle Dipper has to take him down?

(what if Uncle Dipper refused?)

> Do any of them hate certain foods as kids they grow to like as adults?

All three would say pancakes; it wasn’t that they _hated_  them, it was just that Grunkle Stan always burned one side, and sometimes there’d be so much curly gross old man hair in there it’d get stuck in their teeth and Dipper would make noises about calling the health department on Stan-

(the day he came home in the chair was the day he stopped making Stancakes. Pancakes tasted better… and yet were somehow even more bitter in their mouths than ever before.)

> Which of them become caffeine fiends as they age?

NOT HANK LOL. Seriously, despite working in tech (the land of gamer fuel aka Mountain Dew) and living in Portland (land of coffee), Hank is so sensitive to caffeine that he can barely drink tea past two or three in the afternoon, lest it keep him up at night.

And yes, his sisters do mercilessly tease him about this.

> What are the things they secretly love that they can NEVER let their siblings know about, lest they be mocked eternally?

Acacia: Banksy; mainly because of the many many Art School rants she’s gone on about commodification of street art and who has privilege and-

Hank: The Sims. More specifically, if his sisters found out that he recreated everyone he knew, and their homes into sim land.

Willow: That sometimes she makes up shit she sees wrt auras and emotions, just to fuck with people. Hank and Acacia wouldn’t mind that she does that- its more that she’s ardently denied doing it for years and they want in on that fun!

> What is their favorite childhood memory? 

Acacia: Huddling one night under the covers with Hank and Willow, reading comic books and eating secret candy bars they stole from Uncle Dipper’s bribe stash until they fell asleep on top of each other, faces covered in chocolate.

Hank: One afternoon when he was by himself, spending an afternoon in the yard picking various weeds and weird berries off bushes, and pretending to cook with them.

Willow: Grunkle Stan giving her a ride on his shoulders to better see a Sascrotch coming out of the woods. 

> Hi! °˖✧◝(⁰▿⁰)◜✧˖° Do any of the triplets like to cook and stuff? Any culinary expeditions, or any remarkably terrifying anecdotes about the kitchen? (or possibly anything with Mabel juice...)

Acacia: CAN cook but only like, five things. Over and over and over and over again, ad infinitum. If it weren’t for Reina, her kids would have grown up either starved of key nutrients or very picky or both.

Hank: Can not only win Masterchef but bakes to destress. He’s won over at least three new members to the Crew and adverted a major war between rival siren clans with his chocolate pecan cookies.

Willow: She’s. Um. Well, if you give her some raw meat she can make it unraw in 20 seconds but other than that, better not.


	280. Chapter 280

In her heart of hearts, Mabel preferred photos to video. After all, you didn’t need any equipment to experience photos except for your eyes! And you couldn’t scrapbook videos or use them as bookmarks or put them in a super awesome puff paint photo frame that you made special just for that memory.

That being said, some moments called for video. This one in particular required not only video, but her _nice_ actual video camera, rather than the little one in her phone.

Using the zoom feature from her vantage point on the stairs, she targeted the two men who were sprawled over each other on the couch. Tucked between them was a now empty bottle of the weird rotgut that Ford and Grunkle Stan made together the last time Grunkle Ford came to visit. Mabel knew that Stan threw in a bunch of weird berries that he found in the forest, and Ford dipped something glowing in.

“Dip-“

Henry’s eyes were completely blurry, his left eye looking in almost a completely opposite direction from his right, and a tiny bit of drool was coming out of his mouth. 

“You’re like, my best friend Dipper. Like, liiiiike I know Mabel should be my best friend because we are married but you’re my best friend and I love you.”

“No. Nooooo Henry you don’t understand. You’re _my_ best friend. I best friend you more than you best friend me.”

Something they had found out, her and Dipper, when they got drunk for the first time at 19, was that when Dipper was drunk, he sparkled. Literally.

Skin broken out in brilliant golden sparkles, Dipper tried to boop Henry on the nose and instead poked him in the eye.  Henry gently grabbed Dipper’s finger and placed it back on Dipper’s lap.

“No, you’re my best friend. I never had a best friend and now I have all the best friends but I think you’re my bestest bestest friend.”

Dipper looked completely affronted.

“But you’re my bestest bestest friend in the whole world!”

Henry shook his head gravely. “No, you’re _my_ best friend in the whole world.”

The smell of old shirts and Ben Gay came up from behind Mabel.

“How long have these losers been at it again?” Stan asked quietly.

Mabel pulled her phone out of her pocket to check the time. “Um, forty seven minutes. 

Stan shook his head.

“That’s the last time I let Ford brew with me.”


	281. Chapter 281

“Your problem is kiddo, you think you can get one over on me.”

Stan’s butt was sore from the wooden spoon paddling Ma had just given him and all he wanted to do was go back to his room and Not Sulk Because He Got Caught… but his Ma’s voice made him pause.

Ma went on, putting the aforementioned wooden spoon into the gravy she was making for tonight’s dinner.

“See, I always know when you’re lying because it takes a liar to know a liar. And-“ she pulled the spoon out and pointed it at Stan, who narrowly avoided getting hit with tomato sauce.

“You’ll never be able to surprise me because I’m Mr. Fucking Fox. The only one who pulls the wool over people’s eyes in this house is me.”

“Not even Da?”

His Ma had snorted and went back to stirring the gravy.

“ _Especially_ not your Da.”

And now here he was at 96 and it turned out his Ma still had the ability to surprise him even after all this time.

“It’s addressed to you kiddo,” he said.

Willow smirked, and looked at his hands that were clutching for dear life onto the faded looking envelope.

The faded looking envelope with his mother’s handwriting on it.

The faded looking envelope with the correct address, today’s date, and in the addressee line, “Willow Miriam * Pines.” Stan didn’t know what his Ma had meant by that “*” but it evidentially meant something to Willow considering that she paled slightly when she saw it.

“How… how did you get this again?” Stan asked and his voice was _not_ shaking thank you very much, maybe he had gotten a little soft in his old age but a man still had his pride damnit.

Willow sat down next to him at the kitchen table.

“Guy in a business suit came up to me today at the front desk. Kind of looked spooked, but he said that he was from a credit union in New Jersey. He kind of threw this on my desk and ran.”

Stan noticed some tape residue; he had a feeling knowing Ma that there had been _something_ on there that would compel a complete stranger to come across country just to deliver an almost- he looked at the date- eighty year old package.

He looked back up at his nibling.

“You’ve been expecting this.”

Willow nodded, her yellow eyes that he still hadn’t gotten used to three years on glistening a little bit.

“She promised me she’d send me stuff about… about family. Like her. And me.”

Stan handed the thick envelope back to Willow.

“Then you open it Willow-bean.”

“Grunkle Stan, I-“

“Will you please open the damn thing I’m not getting any younger here.”

Smiling a bit, Willow did. She pulled out a massive sheaf of typewritten pages; Ma probably did that on the clunky old beater Pa kept in the pawn shop for bookkeeping that he never oiled. It was a good thing Ma did for Willow. And he’d be interested in reading it too, Ma never did talk much about her family with him and Ford and-

“This is for you Stan.”

Willow gently placed a smaller envelope on his lap.

“For my little free spirit.”

All these years on and she was still surprising him.


	282. Chapter 282

Mabel sighed.

It wasn’t that Dipper _DIDN’T_ want to go trick or treating with her. 

On the contrary, if anything he was more excited this year than he had been in the past two.

Sure she had to talk him out of potentially turning bowls of “eyeballs” and “brains” into the real things, and they spent forty five minutes arguing if Dipper’s new look could count as his costume or not, but the point was, they were revved up and ready to go for some hot trick or treating action. They had even worked out a deal where Mabel would ‘sacrifice’ her candy to Dipper at the end of the night in exchange for him remaining solid (not that a floating trick or treat bucket wasn’t great but the rest of Piedmont wouldn’t think so). And if there happened to be a leftover bag of candy from a twin who suddenly disappeared, well, obviously Mabel would have to take care of that.

Then the sun rose on Halloween morning and-

Mabel looked up as Dipper plibbed into the room with an audible pop-and she _knew_ he had to be tired, Dipper was still learning how to handle his new existence but he usually only ever made noise when he wanted to.

“That didn’t last long,” Mabel said, as she picked up another sequin to pin onto her mask.

Dipper looked horrible. His eyes were sunken in, and his yellow blood was closer to the surface of his skin than usual making him look sallow all over. His hands had twisted and gnarled, the fingers broken and curled up and around each other, the claws growing into his palms. Occasionally his skin would tear on his arms, his legs, his face and a bright golden eye would open up in a spray of blood, looking around madly before Dipper poked it back down into his body. Worse of all was his stomach, horribly distended like he had eaten three or four bowling balls. Mabel had put her ear to it at lunch and had to jerk away immediately because all she heard was screaming.

The problem wasn’t just that Halloween was turning out to be the one day in the year everyone and their grandmother and their grandmother’s sewing circle decided to try their hand at demon summoning.

No, it was that they kept giving Dipper thin-

No.

No Mabel.

Not things, she reminded herself.

People were sacrificing lives, sacrificing souls. And as miserable as Dipper was Mabel wasn’t stupid. She knew, knew there was a part of him screaming in joy for what he was being gifted.

Dipper looked up at her. "M҉a̧bel,͜ ̷y͏o͢u̧ s̶hǫųl̨d go ̵w҉ith҉o̶ut m͏è,̧" he rasped for the sixteenth time that afternoon. 

(she had been counting, keeping track with a Sharpie on her arm where Dipper couldn’t see)

Mabel shook her head. 

“Nuh-uh Broseidon. Either I go with you or not at all.”

Dipper scowled.

“̶Mab̢èl̵!̛ I̛.҉..̡ oh s͟h͠it̡, h̵ơl-͘"̡

He blipped out again before he could finish his thought, and Mabel continued to work on the mask she would most certainly not be wearing out tonight. 

A knock at the door interrupted her, and a second later Mom’s head popped through the frame.

“Hey honey, if you can’t go out with D… with your bro-… if you can’t go out tonight, do you think you can help Mrs. Pfannstiel out?”

“Mrs. Pfannstiel?” 

“She moved in next door while you… while you both were gone this summer. Her grandchildren are visiting but she doesn’t feel up to taking them out. Would you mind walking them around the neighborhood?”

Mabel hesitated. She shouldn’t abandon Dipper-

“You can bring your own sack too honey.” Mom paused, then chuckled a bit. “You know, your dad brought his own sack when he took you and Dipper out.”

Mabel had forgotten that.

She should wait for her brother. 

She should stay home if he couldn’t go out with her.

She had also spent a solid month planning this harlequin costume. She hadn’t had a ton of candy in forever. 

Dipper said it was fine.

“Okay. I’ll take them out.”

Mom smiled. “Thanks honey.”

(Some years Mabel went by herself. Some years Mabel borrowed someone’s kids. And of course, once she had her own she went with them. But Mabel never missed trick or treating for her entire life.)


	283. Chapter 283

“I just-how can you be  _sure_  Mabel?”

“Because I am,” Mabel told him for what must have been the five hundredth time. Maybe five hundred and one; she was beginning to lose count between the endless rounds of having to pee and getting blood drawn for tests and doctor’s appointments and trying to get the nursery ready and-

“But you don’t know that Mabel, you don’t know what I’ve done-“

“I think I do Dipper,” and oh no, her voice sounded kind of mean there, but as much as she loved her twin and wanted to be there for him and support him, Mabel just needed him to _not_ for five minutes.

Five minutes.

Five minutes to breathe and also figure out how she was going to get off this stupid gosh darn couch because she needed to pee again but the couch was so low to the ground and she was so big now.

“You don’t know _me_ though, you don’t know what I’m _actually_ capable of, how can you even trust me with the kids-“

One of the said future blessings and apple of her eyes kicked her in the bladder and oh god a little tiny bit of pee just came out on the couch and Dipper was taking another deep breath to complain and-

“Dipper. I love you. I trust you. I always will, no matter how many times you want to come to me and complain about how bad you are without actually doing anything to stop being bad.”

Dipper’s face dropped. 

“Mabel… that’s not _fair_. You know…. You know.”

She nodded. “I do, but now you’re actually listening to me instead of letting my voice go in one ear and out of the other like a big old goober.”

Her brother opened his mouth to interject, then he actually thought before talking once (not fair Mabel, you have that same problem) and closed it, to let her go on.

“I love and trust you Dipper and that’s one reason why I will never worry about you around the babies, but you know what the biggest reason is? My love and trust isn’t enough for you.”

Mabel absently put a hand on her stomach, patting it to settle the babies down inside. She was so, so very tired.

“What is more important to you though is that I keep thinking and telling you that you’re a good person. Me believing you’re a good person matters more to you than anything else in the world. And more than me trusting you as a person, I trust most that you don’t want to fuck that up, since I’m the only reason that you think that you’re a little bit of a good person. You tell yourself that every time something bad happens; I’ve noticed.”

(she kept count when she was younger and they were in high school, but she stopped really quickly; it would have hurt them and for what?)

Dipper looked like he was about to cry and she needed to make him feel better but today she didn’t feel like it.

Today she didn’t want to.

Today he was going to have to deal.

“I-“

Mabel shook her head. 

“Dipper, I love you, but can you just. Go away? For a bit? Find someone else to talk to about all of this; I don’t think I can be the only person you lean on any more.”

His hand reached out and grabbed hers, gave it a squeeze with nails carefully blunted.

 “I.. okay. Okay. I’ll try.”

Maybe she should have given him some encouraging words to leave him with as he blipped away, but here and now, all she wanted to do was have a little cry and eat some Cheezits, and figure out getting up off the couch.

She had had to figure out so much about her and Dipper, about helping Dipper, on her own. 

Maybe it was time for Dipper to start helping with that. 


End file.
